

; .,;;.■: : : v'. • •'.:..:•' : ; - : -:' : -: 

























Glass . 
Book. 



15Q3 

, >4 



ESSAYS 






INTELLECTUAL POWERS OE MAN. 



THOMAS REID, D. D., F. R. S. E. 



ABRIDGED. 



WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON 
AND OTHERS. 



EDITED 

By JAMES WALKER, D. D , 

PROF. OP INTELLECT. AND MOR. PHIL03. IN HARVARD COLLEGE. 



CAMBRIDGE: 

PUBLISHED BY JOHN B ARTLETT. 

33oofeselUr to tl)e 5Hnfbersft». 

1850. 



^ 



y ^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 

John Bartlett, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



■By teu% tt*m 
A*r« J914. 



CAMBRIDGE ." 
METCALF AND COMPANY, 

PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



EDITOR'S NOTICE, 



The psychology generally taught in England and this 
country for the last fifty years has been that of the Scotch 
school, of which Dr. Reid is the acknowledged head. The 
influence of the same doctrines is also apparent in the im- 
proved state of philosophy in several of the Continental 
nations, and particularly in France. Sir W. Hamilton ded- 
icates his annotated edition of Eeid's works to M. Cousin, 
the distinguished philosopher and statesman " through whom 
Scotland has been again united intellectually to her old 
political ally, and the author's writings (the best result of 
Scottish speculation) made the basis of academical instruc- 
tion in philosophy throughout the central nation of Europe." 

The name of Reid, therefore, historically considered, is 
second to none among British psychologists and metaphy- 
sicians, with perhaps the single exception of Locke. His 
Essays on the Intellectual Towers of Man have likewise 
intrinsic and peculiar merits, especially as a manual to be 
used by those who are just entering on the study. The 
spirit and tone are unexceptionable ; the style has a fresh- 
ness and an interest which betoken the original thinker ;* 
technicalities are also avoided to a great degree, by which 
means, and by the frequent use of familiar and sometimes 



IV EDITORS NOTICE. 

homely comparisons and illustrations, much of the obscu- 
rity and perplexity, commonly objected to in metaphysical 
discussion, is removed. 

The notes are intended either to correct mistakes and sup- 
ply defects in the text, or to bring down the history of the 
speculation to the present day. Most of them are from 
Sir W. Hamilton's edition of Reid, mentioned above, and 
are marked by his initial. These, together with the extracts 
occasionally made from the Supplementary Dissertations, 
can hardly fail to convince the reader, that, when the whole 
of that work, as yet incomplete, is given to the public, it 
will constitute one of the most important contributions ever 
made to intellectual science. 

In order to make room for these additions, and, at the 
same time, keep the volume within the limits proper for a 
text-book, it has been found necessary materially to abridge 
some portions of the original ; but the omitted passages con- 
sist almost exclusively of repetitions, or of historical or 
merely critical digressions, in which the author did not 
excel. On account of these changes, the division and num- 
bering of the chapters have been altered in several instances, 
and some passages have been transposed. To give greater 
distinctness to the argument or exposition, sections have also 
been introduced. 

The references in the notes are generally for beginners, 
and not for proficients. They will be found convenient 
where students are required, under the form of dissertations 
or forensics, to collect and weigh the various opinions which 
have been entertained respecting the disputed question. 

Cambridge, February 15, 1850. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PREFACE, ix 



PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

CHAPTER I. 
EXPLICATION OF WORDS, 1 

CHAPTER II. 
OF HYPOTHESES, 10 

CHAPTER III. 
OF ANALOGY, 16 

CHAPTER IV. 

ON THE PROPER MEANS OF KNOWING THE OPERATIONS 
OF THE MIND, 21 

CHAPTER V. 
DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND, ... 26 

ESSAY II. 

OF THE POWERS WE HAVE BY MEANS OF OUR EX- 
TERNAL SENSES. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE, 30 

CHAPTER II. 
HARTLEY'S THEORY OF VIBRATIONS, 37 



a 



# 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

FALSE CONCLUSIONS DRAWN FROM THE CONNECTION 
BETWEEN PERCEPTION AND IMPRESSIONS MADE ON 
THE ORGANS OF SENSE, 46 

CHAPTER IV. 

OF PERCEPTION, PROPERLY SO CALLED, . . . .52 

CHAPTER V. 
THEORIES OF PERCEPTION, 60 

CHAPTER VI. 
REFLECTIONS ON THE COMMON THEORY OF IDEAS, . 120 

CHAPTER VII. 
OF SENSATION, . 133 

CHAPTER VIII. 
OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION, 143 

CHAPTER IX. 
OF MATTER AND SPACE, 160 

CHAPTER X. 

OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE, AND OF BELIEF IN GEN- 
ERAL, 172 

CHAPTER XI. 

OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES, . . . .179 

CHAPTER XII. 
OF THE ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES, . . .189 



ESSAY III. 

OF MEMORY. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF THE NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. OF THIS FACULTY, . 200 



CONTENTS. VU 



CHAPTER II. 

THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF DURA- 
TION, 216 

CHAPTER III. 

OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF PER- 
SONAL IDENTITY, . . . ... . . .228 



ESSAY IV. 

OF CONCEPTION. 

CHAPTER I. 

OF CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN GEN- 
ERAL, 240 

CHAPTER II. 

OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND; OR MENTAL 

ASSOCIATION, . 263 



ESSAY V. 

OF ABSTRACTION. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF GENERAL WORDS, 282 

CHAPTER II. 
OF THE FORMATION OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS, . . 290 

CHAPTER III. 
OPINIONS OF PHILOSOPHERS ABOUT UNIVERSALS, . . 303 



ESSAY VI. 

OF JUDGMENT. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL, . . . . . . .313 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER II. 

OF COMMON SENSE, 330 

CHAPTER III. 
OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL, 344 



ESSAY VII. 

OF REASONING. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF REASONING IN GENERAL, AND OF DEMONSTRATION, 398 

CHAPTER II. 
OF PROBABLE REASONING, 411 

CHAPTER III. 
OF MR. HUME'S SKEPTICISM WITH REGARD TO REASON, 419 



ESSAY VIII. 

OF TASTE. 

CHAPTER I. 
OF TASTE IN GENERAL, 429 

CHAPTER II. 
OF THE OBJECTS OF TASTE, 433 

APPENDIX. 

SIR W. HAMILTON'S DOCTRINE OF COMMON SENSE AND 
THEORY OF PERCEPTION. — NATURAL REALISM. — PRE- 
SENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE, . 453 



PREFACE. 



I. Distribution of the Sciences.'] Human knowledge 
may be reduced to two general heads, according as it re- 
lates to body or to mind ; to things material, or to things 
intellectual. 

The whole system of bodies in the universe, of which 
we know but a very small part, may be called the material 
world ; the whole system of minds, from the infinite Cre- 
ator to the meanest creature endowed with thought, may 
be called the intellectual world. These are the two great 
kingdoms of nature * that fall within our notice ; and about 
the one or the other, or things pertaining to them, every 
art, every science, and every human thought are employed ; 
nor can the boldest flight of imagination carry us beyond 
their limits. 

Many things there are, indeed, regarding the nature and 
the structure both of body and of mind, which our facul- 
ties cannot reach ; many difficulties which the ablest phi- 
losopher cannot resolve ; but of other natures, if any 
other there be, we have no knowledge, no conception at all. 

* The term nature is used sometimes in a wider, sometimes in a nar- 
rower extension. When employed in its most extensive meaning, it 
embraces the two worlds of mind and matter. When employed in its 
more restricted signification, it is a synonyme for the latter only, and is 
then used in contradistinction to the former. In the Greek philosophy, 
the word <pv<TLs was general in its meaning ; and the great branch of 
philosophy styled physical or physiological included under it, not only 
the sciences of matter, but also those of mind. With us the term nature 
is more vaguely extensive than the terms physics, physical, physiology, 
physiological, or even than the adjective natural; whereas, in the phi- 
losophy of Germany, JYatur. and its correlatives, whether of Greek or 
Latin derivation, are, in general, expressive of the world of matter, in 
contrast to the world of intelligence. — H. 



PREFACE. 



That every thing that exists must be either corporeal or 
incorporeal, is evident. But it is not so evident, that 
every thing that exists must either be corporeal or en- 
dowed with thought. Whether there be in the universe 
beings which are neither extended, solid, and inert, like 
body, nor active and intelligent, like mind, seems to be 
beyond the reach of our knowledge. There appears to 
be a vast interval between body and mind ; and whether 
there be any intermediate nature that connects them to- 
gether, we know not. 

We have no reason to ascribe intelligence, or even sen- 
sation, to plants ; yet there appears in them an active force 
and energy, w r hich cannot be the result of any arrange- 
ment or combination of inert matter. The same thing 
may be said of those powers by which animals are nour- 
ished and groio, by which matter gravitates, by which 
magnetical and electrical bodies attract and repel each 
other, and by which the parts of solid bodies cohere. 

Some have conjectured, that the phenomena of the ma- 
terial world which require active force are produced by 
the continual operation of intelligent beings. Others have 
conjectured, that there may be in the universe beings that 
are active ivithout intelligence, which, as a kind of incor- 
poreal machinery, contrived by the Supreme Wisdom, 
perform their destined task without any knowledge or in- 
tention. But, laying aside conjecture, and all pretences 
to determine in things beyond our reach, we must rest in 
this, — that body and mind are the only kinds of being of 
which we can have any knowledge, or can form any con- 
ception. If there be other kinds, they are not discoverable 
by the faculties which God has given us ; and, with re- 
gard to us, are as if they were not. 

As, therefore, all our knowledge is confined to body 
and mind, or things belonging to them, there are two great 
branches of philosophy, one relating to body, the other to 
mind. The properties of body, and the laws that obtain 
in the material system, are the objects of natural philos- 
ophy, as that term is now used. The branch which treats 
of the nature and operations of minds has by some been 
called pneumatology .* And to the one or the other of 

* Now properly superseded by the term psychology ; to which no 



PREFACE. XI 

these branches, the principles of all the sciences be- 
long. 

What variety there may be of minds or thinking beings 
throughout this vast universe, we cannot pretend to say. 
We dwell in a little corner of God's dominion, disjoined 
from the rest of it. The globe which we inhabit is but 
one of seven planets that encircle our sun. What various 
orders of beings may inhabit the other six, their second- 
aries, and the comets belonging to our system, and how 
many other suns may be encircled with like systems, are 
things altogether hid from us. Although human reason 
and industry have discovered, with great accuracy, the 
order and distances of the planets, and the laws of their 
motion, we have no means of corresponding with them. 
That they may be the habitation of animated beings is 
very probable ; but of the nature or powers of their in- 
habitants, we are perfectly ignorant. Every man is con- 
scious of a thinking principle or mind in himself, and we 
have sufficient evidence of a like principle in other men. 
The actions of brute animals show that they have some 
thinking principle, though of a nature far inferior to the 
human mind. And every thing about us may convince us 
of the existence of a Supreme Mind, the Maker and 
Governor of the universe. These are all the minds of 
which reason can give us any certain knowledge. 

IT. General Prejudice against the Study of Psychol- 
ogy.^ The mind of man is the noblest work of God 
which reason discovers to us, and therefore, on account of 
its dignity, deserves our study. It must, indeed, be ac- 
knowledged, that although it is of all objects the nearest to 
us, and seems the most within our reach, it is very diffi- 
cult to attend to its operations, so as to form a distinct 
notion of them ; and on that account there is no branch 
of knowledge in which the ingenious and speculative have 
fallen into so great errors, and even absurdities. These 
errors and absurdities have given rise to a general preju- 
dice against all inquiries of this nature ; and because in- 
competent objection can be made, and which affords — what the va- 
rious clumsy periphrases in use do not — a convenient adjective, psy- 
chological. — H. 



Xll PREFACE. 



genious men have, for many ages, given different and con- 
tradictory accounts of the powers of the mind, it is con- 
cluded that all speculations concerning them are chimeri- 
cal and visionary. 

But whatever effect this prejudice may have with su- 
perficial thinkers, the judicious will not be apt to be car- 
ried away with it. About two hundred years ago the 
opinions of men in natural philosophy were as various and 
as contradictory as they are now concerning the powers 
of the mind. Galileo, Torricelli, Kepler, Bacon, and 
Newton, had the same discouragement in their attempts to 
throw light upon the material system, as we have with re- 
gard to the intellectual. If they had been deterred by 
such prejudices, we should never have reaped the benefit 
of their discoveries, which do honor to human nature, and 
will make their names immortal. The motto which Lord 
Bacon prefixed to some of his writings was worthy of his 
genius, Inveniam viam aut faciam. 

There is a natural order in the progress of the sciences, 
and good reasons may be assigned why the philosophy of 
body should be elder sister to that of mind, and of a 
quicker growth ; but the last has the principle of life no 
less than the first, and will grow up, though slowly, to 
maturity. The remains of ancient philosophy upon this 
subject are venerable ruins, carrying the marks of genius 
and industry, sufficient to inflame, but not to satisfy, our 
curiosity. In later ages, Descartes was the first that 
pointed out the road we ought to take in these dark re- 
gions. Malebranche, Arnauld, Locke, Berkeley, Buf- 
fier, Hutcheson, Butler, Hume, Price, Lord Karnes, 
have labored to make discoveries ; nor have they labored 
in vain. For, however different and contrary their con- 
clusions are, however skeptical some of them, they have 
all given new light, and helped to clear the way for their 
successors. 

We ought never to despair of human genius, but rather 
to hope, that, in time, it may produce a system of the 
powers and operations of the human mind, no less certain 
than those of optics or astronomy. 

III. Grounds on ichich the Study is recommended. ] 



PREFACE. Xlll 

This is the more devoutly to be wished, as a distinct 
knowledge of the powers of the mind would undoubtedly 
give great light to many other branches of science. Mr. 
Hume has justly observed, that " all the sciences have a 
relation to human nature ; and, however wide any of 
them may seem to run from it, they still return back by 
one passage or another. This is the centre and capitol 
of the sciences, which being once masters of, we may 
easily extend our conquests everywhere." 

The faculties of our minds are the tools and engines we 
must use in every disquisition ; and the better we under- 
stand their nature and force, the more successfully we 
shall be able to apply them. Mr. Locke gives this ac- 
count of the occasion of his entering upon his Essay 
concerning Human Understanding: — "Five or six 
friends," says he, "meeting at my chamber, and dis- 
coursing on a subject very remote from this, found them- 
selves quickly at a stand, by the difficulties that rose on 
every side. After we had for a while puzzled ourselves, 
without coming any nearer to a resolution of those doubts 
that perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we took a 
wrong course ; and that, before we set ourselves upon in- 
quiries of that nature, it was necessary to examine our 
own abilities, and see what objects our understandings were 
fitted or not fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the 
company, who all readily assented ; and thereupon it was 
agreed that this should be our first inquiry." If this be 
commonly the cause of perplexity in those disquisitions 
which have least relation to the mind, it must be so much 
more in those that have an immediate connection with it. 

The sciences may be distinguished into two classes, ac- 
cording as they pertain to the material or to the intellect- 
ual world. The various parts of natural philosophy, the 
mechanical arts, chemistry, medicine, and agriculture, 
belong to the first ; but to the last belong grammar, 
logic, rhetoric, natural theology, morals, jurisprudence, 
law, politics, and the fine arts. The knowledge of the 
human mind is the root from which these grow and draw 
their nourishment.* Whether, therefore, we consider the 

* It is justly observed by M. Jouffroy, that the division here 
b 



XIV PREFACE 

dignity of this subject, or its subserviency to science in 
general, and to the noblest branches of science in partic- 
ular, it highly deserves to be cultivated. 

A very elegant writer on the sublime and beautiful con- 
cludes his account of the passions thus : — " The variety 
of the passions is great, and worthy, in every branch of 
that variety, of the most diligent investigation. The more 
accurately we search into the human mind, the stronger 
traces we everywhere find of His wisdom who made it. 
If a discourse on the use of the parts of the body may be 
considered as a hymn to the Creator, the use of the pas- 
sions, which are the organs of the mind, cannot be barren 
of praise to Him, nor unproductive to ourselves of that 
noble and uncommon union of science and admiration, 
which a contemplation of the works of Infinite Wisdom 
alone can afford to a rational mind ; whilst referring to 
Him whatever we find of right, or good, or fair, in our- 

enounced is not in principle identical with that previously propounded. 
_H. 

Jouffroy objects to the distinction made by the Scotch philosophers 
between the physical sciences, and the moral or philosophical sciences, 
as not being sufficiently exact and precise. He says : — " In this world 
there are two orders of phenomena perfectly distinct, — physical phe- 
nomena, and intellectual and moral phenomena, which I shall call, for 
brevity's sake, material, phenomena and mental -phenomena It is by the 
senses and in the external world that we apprehend and know the 
first; it is by consciousness and within our own minds that we attain to 
the second, for in the theatre of consciousness alone are we able to ob- 
serve them immediately and in themselves. Elsewhere we see the 
effects or the material symbols of mental phenomena, but we could not 
comprehend the cause of these effects, or the meaning of these symbols, 
except by the knowledge which we first acquire in ourselves of this 
order of phenomena. Now every possible scientific question is re- 
solved by a knowledge of the laws of one or the other of these two 
orders of phenomena. Every question which finds its solution in the 
laws of material phenomena belongs to physics; every question which 
finds its solution in the laws of mental phenomena belongs to philos- 
ophy ; every question, in fine, the solution of which presupposes at the 
same time a knowledge of the laws of some material phenomena and 
of some mental phenomena, is mixed, and partakes of the double nature 
of philosophical questions and physical questions. On what, then, de- 
pends the nature of any given question, and consequently that of the 
science which is to resolve it? On the nature of the phenomena; and 
as these phenomena are perfectly distinct, and apprehended by facul- 
ties which are equally so, the separation established by common sense 
between the philosophical sciences and the physical sciences is at once 
completely justified, and clearly explained and defined." — Preface to 
his. (Euvres Completes de Thomas Reid, p. xlii. — Ed. 



PREFACE. XV 

selves, discovering bis strength and wisdom even in our 
own weakness and imperfection, honoring them where we 
discover them clearly, and adoring their profundity where 
we are lost in our search, we may be inquisitive without 
impertinence, and elevated without pride ; we may be 
admitted, if I may dare to say so, into the counsels of the 
Almighty, by a consideration of his works. This eleva- 
tion of the mind ought to be the principal end of all our 
studies, which, if they do not in some measure effect, 
they are of very little service to us." * 

* Burke's Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, Part I. 
Sect. XIX. 

For ampler discussion of the topics in this Preface, see Descartes, 
Discours de la Methode. Stewart, Elements of the Philosophy of the Hu- 
man Mind, Introduction ; and Philosophical Essays, Preliminary Disser- 
tation. Brown, Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Lect. 
I. -IV. Cousin, Cours de 1828, Lecons I. et II. This volume has 
been translated into English by Mr. Linberg, under the title of Intro- 
duction to the History of Philosophy. Jouffroy, Prefaces to his Esquisses 
de Philosophic Morale de Dvgald Stewart, and (Euvres de Reid. Mr. 
Ripley has given an English version of the former in his Philosophical 
Miscellanies, Vol. II. Sir W. Hamilton says also of the latter, that it 
" will soon be made generallj' accessible to the British public by a 
highly competent translator." 

On the division and organization of the sciences, and the relation of 
psychology to the rest, compare Jouffroy, JVouveaux Melanges Philoso- 
phiques. Comte, Philosophic Positive, Lecon II. Coleridge, General 
Introduction to The Encyclopaedia Metropolitana. — Ed. 



ESSAYS 

ON THE 

INTELLECTUAL POWERS OF MAN. 



PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 
CHAPTER I. 

EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 

I. On the Definition of Terms.] There is no greater 
impediment to the advancement of knowledge than the 
ambiguity of words. To this chiefly it is owing that we 
find sects and parties in most branches of science, and 
disputes, which are carried on from age to age, without 
being brought to an issue. 

Sophistry has been more effectually excluded from math- 
ematics and natural philosophy than from other sciences. 
In mathematics it had no place from the beginning : mathe- 
maticians having had the wisdom to define accurately the 
terms they use, and to lay down, as axioms, the first prin- 
ciples on which their reasoning is grounded. Accordingly 
we find no parties among mathematicians, and hardly any 
disputes.* 

In natural philosophy there was no less 'sophistry, no 
less dispute and uncertainty, than in other sciences, until, 
about a century and a half ago, this science began to be 
built upon the foundation of clear definitions and self- 

* It was not the superior wisdom of mathematicians, but the simple 
and palpable character of their object-matter, which determined the 
difference. — H. 

1 



is PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

evident axioms. Since that time, the science, as if wa- 
tered with the dew of heaven, has grown apace ; disputes 
have ceased, truth has prevailed, and the science has 
received greater increase in two centuries than in two 
thousand years before. 

It were to be wished that this method, which has been 
so successful in those branches of science, were attempted 
in others ; for definitions and axioms are the foundations 
of all science. But that definitions may not be sought 
where no definition can be given, nor logical definitions be 
attempted where the subject does not admit of them, it 
may be proper to lay down some general principles con- 
cerning definition, for the sake of those who are less con- 
versant in this branch of logic. 

When one undertakes to explain any art or science, he 
will have occasion to use many words that are common to 
all who use the same language, and some that are peculiar 
to that art or science. Words of the last kind are called 
terms of the art, and ought to be distinctly explained, that 
their meaning may be understood. 

A definition is nothing else but an explication of the 
meaning of a word, by words whose meaning is already 
known. Hence it is evident, that every word cannot be 
defined; for the definition must consist of words ; and 
there could be no definition, if there were not words pre- 
viously understood without definition. Common words, 
therefore, ought to be used in their common acceptation ; 
and when they have different acceptations in common lan- 
guage, these, when it is necessary, ought to be distin- 
guished. But they require no definition. It is sufficient 
to define words that are uncommon, or that are used in an 
uncommon meaning. 

It may further be observed, that there are many words 
which, though they may need explication, cannot be logi- 
cally defined. A logical definition, that is, a strict and 
proper definition, must express the kind [genus] of the 
thing defined, and the specific difference by which the 
species defined is distinguished from every other species 
belonging to that kind. It is natural to the mind of man 
to class things under various kinds, and again to subdivide 
every kind into its various species. A species may often 



EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 3 

be subdivided into subordinate species, and then it is con- 
sidered as a kind. 

From what has been said of logical definition, it is evi- 
dent that no word can be logically defined which does not 
denote a species ; because such things only can have a 
specific difference ; and a specific difference is essential to 
a logical definition. On this account there can be no logi- 
cal .definition of individual things, such as London or 
Paris. Individuals are distinguished either by proper 
names, or by accidental circumstances of time or place ; 
but they have no specific difference; and therefore, though 
they may be known by proper names, or may be described 
by circumstances or relations, they cannot be defined. 
It is no less evident, that the most general words cannot be 
logically defined, because there is not a more general term 
of which they are a species. 

Nay, we cannot define every species of things, because 
it happens sometimes that we have not words to express the 
specific difference. Thus a scarlet color is, no doubt, a 
species of color; but how shall we express the specific 
difference by which scarlet is distinguished from green or 
blue ? The difference between them is immediately per- 
ceived by the eye ; but we have not words to express it. 
These things we are taught by logic. 

Without having recourse to the principles of logic, we 
may easily be satisfied that words cannot be defined which 
signify things perfectly simple, and void of all composition. 
This observation, I think, was first made by Descartes, 
and afterwards more fully illustrated by Locke.* And 
however obvious it appears to be, many instances may be 
given of great philosophers who have perplexed and dark- 
ened the subjects they have treated, by not knowing or 
not attending to it. 

* This is incorrect. Descartes has little and Locke no title to praise 
for this observation. It had been made by Aristotle, and after him by 
many others; while, subsequent to Descartes, and previous to Locke, 
Pascal and the Port-Royal logicians, to say nothing of a paper of Leib- 
nitz, in 1681, had reduced it to a matter of commonplace. In this in- 
stance Locke can, indeed, be proved a borrower. Mr. Stewart, Philo- 
sophical Essays, Note A, is wrong in thinking that, after Descartes, 
Lord Stair is the earliest philosopher by whom this logical principle 
was enounced ; for Stair, as a writer, is subsequent to the authors ad- 
duced. — H. 



4 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

When men attempt to define things which cannot be de- 
fined, their definitions will always be either obscure or false. 
It was one of the capital defects of Aristotle's philosophy, 
that he pretended to define the simplest things, which nei- 
ther can be nor need to be defined ; such as time and mo- 
lion. Among modern philosophers, I know none that has 
abused definition so much as Wolf, the famous German 
philosopher, who, in a work on the human mind, called 
Psychologia Empirica, consisting of many hundred propo- 
sitions, fortified by demonstrations, with a proportional 
accompaniment of definitions, corollaries, and scholia, has 
given so many definitions of things which cannot be de- 
fined, and so many demonstrations of things self-evident, 
that the greatest part of the work consists of tautology, 
and ringing changes upon words. 

II. Explication of some of the most frequently recur- 
ring Terms in Psychology.] There is no subject in which 
there is more frequent occasion to use words that cannot 
be logically defined, than in treating of the powers and 
operations of the mind. The simplest operations of our 
minds must all be expressed by words of this kind. No 
man can explain by a logical definition what it is to think, 
to apprehend, to believe, to will, to desire. Every man 
who understands the language has some notion of the 
meaning of these words ; and every man who is capable 
of reflection may, by attending to the operations of his 
own mind which are signified by them, form a clear and 
distinct notion of them ; but they cannot be logically de- 
fined. 

Since, therefore, it is often impossible to define words 
which we must use on this subject, we must as much as 
possible use common ivords in their common acceptation, 
pointing out their various senses where they are ambigu- 
ous ; and when we are obliged to use words less common 
we must endeavour to explain them as well as we can, 
without affecting to give logical definitions, when the na- 
ture of the thing does not admit of them. 

The following observations on the meaning of certain 
words are intended to supply, as far as we can, the want 
of definitions, by preventing ambiguity or obscurity in the 
use of them. 



EXPLICATION OF WORDS. O 

1. The Mind. — By the mind of a man we under- 
stand that in him which thinks, remembers, reasons, wills. 
The essence both of body and of mind is unknown to us. 
We know certain properties of the first, and certain oper- 
ations of the last, and by these only we can define or de- 
scribe them. We define body to be that which is extended, 
solid, movable, divisible. In like manner we define mind 
to be that which thinks. We are conscious that we think, 
and that we have a variety of thoughts of different kinds ; 
such as seeing, hearing, remembering, deliberating, resolv- 
ing, loving, hating, and many other kinds of thought, all 
which we are taught'by nature to attribute to one internal 
principle ; and this principle of thought we call the mind 
or soul of a man. 

2. Operations of the Mind. — By the operations * of the 
mind, we understand every mode of thinking of which we 
are conscious. 

It deserves our notice, that the various modes of think- 
ing have always, and in all languages, as far as we know, 
been called by the name of operations of the mind, or by 
names of the same import. To body we ascribe various 
properties, but not operations, properly so called ; it is 
extended, divisible, movable, inert ; it continues in any 
state in which it is put ; every change of its state is the 
effect of some force impressed upon it, and is exactly pro- 
portional to the force impressed, and in the precise direc- 
tion of that force. These are the general properties of 
matter, and these are not operations; on the contrary, they 
all imply its being a dead, inactive thing, which moves only 
as it is moved, and acts only by being acted upon. 

But the mind is, from its very nature, a living and active 
being. Every thing we know of it implies life and active 
energy ; and the reason why all its modes of thinking are > 
called its operations is, that in all, or in most of them, it 
is not merely passive, as body is, but is really and properly 
active. 

In all ages, and in all languages, ancient and modern, 
the various modes of thinking have been expressed by 

* Operation, act, energy, are nearly convertible terms ; and are op- 
posed to faculty (of which anon), as the actual to the potential. — H. 
] # 



PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 



words of active signification, such as seeing, hearing, rea- 
soning, willing, and the like. It seems, therefore, to be the 
natural judgment of mankind, that the mind is active in its 
various ways of thinking ; and for this reason they are 
called its operations, and are expressed by active verbs. 

It may be made a question, What regard is to be paid 
to this natural judgment ? May it not be a vulgar error ? 
Philosophers who think so have, no doubt, a right to be 
heard. But until it is proved that the mind is not active 
in thinking, but merely passive, the common language with 
regard to its operations ought to be used, and ought not to 
give place to a phraseology invented by philosophers, which 
implies its being merely passive. 

3. Poivers and Faculties of the JWind. — The words 
power and faculty, which are often used in speaking of the 
mind, need little explication. Every operation supposes 
a power in the being that operates ; for to suppose any 
thing to operate which has no power to operate is mani- 
festly absurd. But, on the other hand, there is no absurd- 
ity in supposing a being to have power to operate when 
it does not operate. Thus, I may have power to walk 
when I sit, or to speak when I am silent. Every opera- 
tion, therefore, implies power ; but the power does not 
imply the operation. 

The faculties of the mind, and its powers, are often 
used as synonymous expressions. But as most synonymes 
have some minute distinction that deserves notice, I ap- 
prehend that the word faculty is most properly applied to 
those powers of the mind which are original and natural, 
and which make a part of the constitution of the mind. 
There are other powers which are acquired by use, exer- 
cise, or study, which are not called faculties, but habits. 
There must be something in the constitution of the mind 
necessary to our being able to acquire habits, and this is 
commonly called capacity.* 

* These terms properly stand in the following relations : — pmcers 
are active and passive, natural and acquired. Powers natural and 
active are called faculties; powers natural and passive, capacities or 
receptivities ; powers acquired are habits, and habit is used both in an 
active and in a passive sense. The power, again, of acquiring a habit, 
is called a disposition. — H. 



- EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 7 

4. Subject and Object. — We frequently meet with a 
distinction, in writers upon this subject, between things in 
the mind and things external to the mind. The powers, 
faculties, and operations of the mind are things in the 
mind. Every thing is said to be in the mind of which the 
mind is the subject. It is self-evident, that there are some 
things which cannot exist without a subject to which they 
belong, and of which they are attributes. Thus, color 
must be in something colored ; figure in something figured; 
thought can only be in something that thinks ; wisdom and 
virtue cannot exist but in some being that is wise and vir- 
tuous. When, therefore, we speak of things in the mind, 
we understand by this, things of which the mind is the 
subject. Excepting the mind itself and things in the mind, 
all other things are said to be external. It ought, there- 
fore, to be remembered, that this distinction between 
things in the mind and things external is not meant to sig- 
nify the place of the things we speak off but their subject. 
There is a figurative sense in which things are said to 
be in the mind, which it is sufficient barely to mention. 
We say, Such a thing was jiot in my mind, meaning no 
more than that I had not the least thought of it. By a 
figure, we put the thing for the thought of it. In this 
sense, external things are in the mind as often as they are 
the objects of our thought. 

Most of the operations of the mind, from their very na- 
ture, must have objects to- which they are directed, and 
about which they are employed. He that perceives must 
perceive something ; and that which he perceives is called 
the object of his perception. To perceive, without hav- 
ing any object of perception, is impossible. The mind 
that perceives, the object perceived, and the operation of 
perceiving that object, are distinct things, and are distin- 
guished in the structure of all languages. In this sentence, 
" I see or perceive the moon, " / is the person or mind ; 
the active verb see denotes the operation of that mind, andl 
the moon denotes the object. What we have said of per- 
ceiving is equally applicable to most operations of the 
mind. Such operations are, in all languages, expressed 
by active transitive verbs ; and we know that, in all lan- 
guages, such verbs require a thing or person, which is the 



8 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

agent, and a noun following in an oblique case, which is 
the object. Whence it is evident that all mankind, both 
those who have contrived language, and those who use it 
with understanding, have distinguished these three things 
as different, — to wit, the operations of the mind, which are 
expressed by active verbs, the mind itself, which is the 
nominative to those verbs, and the object, which is, in the 
oblique case, governed by them.* 

5. Idea. — When, in common language, we speak of 
having an idea of any thing, we mean no more by that ex- 
pression than thinking of it. The vulgar allow, that this 
expression implies a mind that thinks, an act of that mind 
which we call thinking, and an object about which we 
think. But, besides these three, the philosopher conceives 
that there is a fourth, — to wit, the idea, which is the 
immediate object. The idea is in the mind itself, and can 
have no existence but in the mind that thinks ; but the re- 
mote or mediate object may be something external, as the 
sun or moon ; it may be something past or future ; it may 
be something which never existed. This is the philo- 
sophical meaning of the word-frfea ; and we may observe, 
that this meaning of that word is built upon a philosophi- 
cal opinion ; for, if philosophers had not believed that 
there are such immediate objects of all our thoughts in the 
mind, they would never have used the word idea to ex- 
press them.f 
• — 

* Subject and object are correlative terms. The former is properly id 
in quo ; the latter, id circa quod. Hence, in psychological language, the 
subject, absolutely, is the mind that knows or thinks, — i. e. the mind 
considered as the subject of knowledge or thought ; the object, that 
which is known, or thought about. The adjectives subjective and ob- 
jective are convenient, if not indispensable expressions. 

The antithesis between myself and what is not myself is sometimes 
expressed by an awkward use of the pronoun /. In English we cannot 
say the I and the not-I so happily as the French le moi and le non-moi, 
or even the German das Ich and das nicht-Ich. The ambiguity arising 
from the identity of sound between the I and the eye would of itself pre- 
clude the ordinary employment of the former. The ego and the non-ego 
are the best terms we. can use ; and as the expressions are scientific, it is 
perhaps no loss that their technical precision is guarded by their non- 
vernacularity. — H. 

t As we proceed, we shall have frequent occasion to notice the limited 
meaning attached by Reid to the term idea, viz. something' in or 
present to the mind, but not a mere modification of the mind ; and also 
his error in supposing that all the philosophers who accepted the theory 
of ideas accepted it under this crude form. — Ed. 



EXPLICATION OF WORDS. 9 

I shall only add on this article, that, although I may 
have occasion to use the word idea in this philosophical 
sense in explaining the opinions of others, I shall have no 
occasion to use it in expressing my own, because I be- 
lieve ideas, taken in this sense, to be a mere fiction of 
philosophers. And in the popular meaning of the word 
there is the less occasion to use it, because the English 
words thought, notion, apprehension, answer the purpose 
as well as the Greek word idea, with this advantage, that 
they are less ambiguous. There is, indeed, a meaning of 
the word idea, which I think most agreeable to its use in 
ancient philosophy, and which I would willingly adopt, if 
use, the arbiter of language, did permit. But this will 
come to be explained afterwards. 

I have premised these observations on the meaning of 
certain words that frequently occur in treating of this sub- 
ject, for two reasons : first, that I may be the better un- 
derstood when I use them ; and secondly, that those who 
would make any progress in this branch of science may 
accustom themselves to attend very carefully to the mean- 
ing of words that are used in it. They may be assured 
of this, that the ambiguity of ivords, and the vague and im- 
proper application of them, have thrown more darkness 
upon this subject than the subtilty and intricacy of things. 

When we use common words, we ought to use them in 
the sense in which they are most commonly used by the 
best and purest writers in the language; and when we have 
occasion to enlarge or restrict the meaning of a common 
word, or to give it more precision than it has in common 
language, the reader ought to have warning of this, other- 
wise we shall impose upon ourselves and upon him. 

Other words that need explication shall be explained as 
they occur. * 

* As a convenient manual for the explication of technical terms in 
psychology we can recommend Isaac Taylor's Elements ofThovght; or, 
Concise Explanations {alphabetically arranged) of the Principal Terms 
employed in the Several Branches of Intellectual Philosophy, fetill better 
for this purpose is the Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques, now in 
course of publication. — Ed. 



10 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

CHAPTER II. 

OF HYPOTHESES. 

I. Proneness of Philosophers to build on Hypotheses.'] 
Every branch of human knowledge has its proper princi- 
ples, its proper foundation and method of reasoning ; and 
if we endeavour to build it upon any other foundation, it 
will never stand firm and stable. Thus the historian builds 
upon testimony, and rarely indulges conjecture. The an- 
tiquarian mixes conjecture with testimony ; and the former 
often makes the larger ingredient. The mathematician 
pays not the least regard either to testimony or conjecture, 
but deduces every thing, by demonstrative reasoning, from 
his definitions and axioms. Indeed, whatever is built 
upon conjecture is improperly called science ; for conjec- 
ture may beget opinion, but cannot produce knowledge. 
Natural philosophy must be built upon the phenomena of 
the material system, discovered by observation and experi- 
ment. 

When men first began to philosophize, that is, to carry 
their thoughts beyond the objects of sense, and to inquire 
into the causes of things, and the secret operations of na- 
ture, it was very natural for them to indulge conjecture ; 
nor was it to be expected that, in many ages, they should 
discover the proper and scientific way of proceeding in 
philosophical disquisitions. Accordingly, we find that the 
most ancient systems- in every branch of philosophy were 
nothing but the conjectures of men famous for their wis- 
dom, whose fame gave authority to their opinions. Thus, 
in early ages, wise men conjectured that this earth is a 
vast plain, surrounded on all hands by a boundless ocean ; 
that from this ocean the sun, moon, and stars emerge at 
their rising, and plunge into it again at their setting. 

With regard to the mind, men in their rudest state are 
apt to conjecture, that the principle of life in a man is his 
breath ; because the most obvious distinction between a 
living and a dead man is, that the one breathes and the 
other does not. To this it is owing, that, in ancient Ian- 



OF HYPOTHESES. 11 

guages, the word which denotes the soul is that which 
properly signifies breath or air. 

As men advance in knowledge, their first conjectures 
appear silly and childish, and give place to others which 
tally better with later observations and discoveries. Thus, 
one system of philosophy succeeds another, without any 
claim to superior merit but this, that it is a more ingeni- 
ous system of conjectures, and accounts better for com- 
mon appearances. 

To omit many ancient systems of this kind, Descartes, 
about the middle of the last century, dissatisfied with the 
materia prima, the substantial forms , and the occult quali- 
ties of the Peripatetics, conjectured boldly, that the heav- 
enly bodies of our system are carried round by a vortex 
or whirlpool of subtile matter, just as straws and chaff are 
carried round in a tub of water. He conjectured that the 
soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, called the pi- 
neal gland ; that there, as in her chamber of presence, she 
receives intelligence of every thing that affects the senses, 
by means of a subtile fluid contained in the nerves, called 
the animal spirits ; and that she despatches these animal 
spirits, as her messengers, to put in motion the several 
muscles of the body, as there is occasion.* By such 
conjectures as these, Descartes could account for every 
phenomenon in nature in such a plausible manner as gave 
satisfaction to a great part of the learned world for more 
than half a century. 

Such conjectures in philosophical matters have com- 
monly got the name of hypotheses or theories.^ And 

* It is not, however, to be supposed that Descartes allowed the soul 
to be seated by local presence in any part of the body ; for the smallest 
point of body is still extended, and mind is absolutely simple and inca- 
pable of occupying place. The pineal gland, in the Cartesian doctrine, 
is only analogically called the seat of the soul, inasmuch as this is 
viewed as the central point of the corporeal organism ; but while through 
this point the mind and body are mutually connected, that connection 
is not one of a mere physical dependence, as they do not operate on 
each other by direct and natural causation. — H. 

t Reid uses the terms theory, hypothesis, and conjecture as convertible, 
and always in an unfavorable acceptation. Herein there is a double 
inaccuracy. But of this again. — H. 

Almost every theory, e. g. that of gravitation, or the Copernican sys- 
tem, was an hypothesis in the beginning, but after being verified by 
facts it ceased to be an hypothesis. — Ed. 



12 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

the invention of an hypothesis, founded on some slight prob- 
abilities, which accounts for many appearances of nature, 
has been considered as the highest attainment of a philoso- 
pher. If the hypothesis hangs well together, is embel- 
lished by a lively imagination, and serves to account for 
common appearances, it is considered by many as having 
all the qualities that should recommend it to our belief, 
and all that ought to be required in a philosophical system. 
There is such proneness in men of genius to invent hy- 
potheses, and in others to acquiesce in them as the utmost 
which the human faculties can attain in philosophy, that it 
is of the last consequence to the progress of real knowl- 
edge, that men should have a clear and distinct under- 
standing of the nature of hypotheses in philosophy, and of 
the regard that is due to them. 

II. A priori Improbability of such Hypotheses.] Al- 
though some conjectures may have a considerable degree 
of probability, yet it is evidently in the nature of conjec- 
ture to be uncertain. In every case, the assent ought to 
be proportioned to the evidence ; for to believe firmly 
what has but a small degree of probability is a manifest 
abuse of our understanding. Now, though we may, in 
many cases, form very probable conjectures concerning 
the works of men, every conjecture we can form with re- 
gard to the works of God has as little probability as the 
conjectures of a child with regard to the works of a man. 
The wisdom of God exceeds that of the wisest man, more 
than that of the wisest man exceeds the wisdom of a child. 
If a child were to conjecture how an army is to be formed 
in the day of battle, how a city is to be fortified, or a 
state governed, what chance has he to guess right ? As 
little chance has the wisest man, when he pretends to con- 
jecture how the planets move in their courses, how the sea 
ebbs and flows, and how our minds act upon our bodies. 
If a thousand of the greatest wits that ever the world 
produced were, without any previous knowledge in anat- 
omy, to sit down and contrive how, and by what internal 
organs, the various functions of the human body are carried 
on, — how the blood is made to circulate, and the limbs to 
move, — -they would not in a thousand years hit upon any 



OF HYPOTHESES. 13 

thing like the truth.* Of all the discoveries that have 
been made concerning the inward structure of the human 
body, never one was made by conjecture. Accurate ob- 
servations of anatomists have brought to light innumerable 
artifices of nature in the contrivance of this machine of the 
human body, which we cannot but admire as excellently 
adapted to their several purposes. But the most saga- 
cious physiologist never dreamed of them till they were 
discovered. On the other hand, innumerable conjectures, 
formed in different ages, with regard to the structure of 
the body, have been confuted by observation, and none 
ever confirmed. What we have said of the internal struc- 
ture of the human body may be said, with justice, of every 
other part of the works of God, wherein any real discov- 
ery has been made. Such discoveries have always been 
made by patient observation, by accurate experiments, or 
by conclusions drawn by strict reasoning from observa- 
tions and experiments ; and such discoveries have always 
tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hy- 
potheses which ingenious men had invented. 

As this is a fact confirmed by the history of philosophy 
in all past ages, it ought to have taught men, long ago, to 
treat with just contempt hypotheses in every branch of 
philosophy, and to despair of ever advancing real knowl- 
edge in that way. The Indian philosopher, being at a 
loss to know how the earth was supported, invented the 
hypothesis of a huge elephant ; and this elephant he sup- 
posed to stand upon the back of a huge tortoise. This 
hypothesis, however ridiculous it appears to us, might 
seem very reasonable to other Indians, who knew no more 
than the inventor of it ; and the same will be the fate of all 
hypotheses invented by men to account for the works of 
God : they may have a decent and plausible appearance 

* " Nothing can be juster than this remark ; but does it authorize the 
conclusion, that, to an experienced and skilful anatomist, conjectures 
founded on analogy and the consideration of uses are of no avail as 
-media of discovery ? The logical inference, indeed, from Dr. Reid's 
" own statement is, not against anatomical conjectures in general, but 
against the anatomical conjectures of those who are ignorant of anat- 
omy." — Stewart's Elements, Part II. Chap. IX. § 2. Harvey's theory 
of the circulation of the blood began in a conjecture founded on the 
doctrine of final causes. — Ed. 



14 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

to those who are not more knowing than the inventor ; but 
when men come to be more enlightened, they will always 
appear ridiculous and childish. 

This has been the case with regard to hypotheses that 
have been revered by the most enlightened part of man- 
kind for hundreds of years ; and it will always be the case 
to the end of the world. For, until the wisdom of men 
bear some proportion to the wisdom of God, their attempts 
to find out the structure of his works by the force of their 
wit and genius will be vain. 

The world has been so long befooled by hypotheses in 
all parts of philosophy, that it is of the utmost consequence 
to every man, who would make any progress in real knowl- 
edge, to treat them with just contempt, as the reveries of 
vain and fanciful men, whose pride makes them conceive 
themselves able to unfold the mysteries of nature by the 
force of their genius. A learned man, in an epistle to 
Descartes, has the following observation, which very 
much deserved the attention of that philosopher, and of 
all that come after him: — " When men, sitting in their 
closet, and consulting only their books, attempt disquisi- 
tions into nature, they may, indeed, tell how they would 
have made the world, if God had given them that in com- 
mission ; that is, they may describe chimeras which cor- 
respond with the imbecility of their own minds, no less 
than the admirable beauty of the universe corresponds 
with the infinite perfection of its Creator ; but without an 
understanding truly divine, they can never form such an 
idea to themselves as the Deity had in creating things." 

III. The only Legitimate Rules of Philosophizing. ] 
Let us, therefore, lay down this as a fundamental princi- 
ple in our inquiries into the structure of the mind and its 
operations, that no regard is due to the conjectures or hy- 
potheses of philosophers, however ancient, however gen- 
erally received. Let us accustom ourselves to try every 
opinion by the touchstone of fact and experience. What 
can fairly be deduced from facts duly observed, or suffi- 
ciently attested, is genuine and pure ; it is the voice of 
God, and no fiction of human imagination. 

The first rule of philosophizing laid down by the great 



OF HYPOTHESES. 15 

Newton is this : — Causas rerum naturalium, non plures 
admitti debere, quam quae, et vera sint, et earum phcenome- 
nis explicandis sufficient, — " No more causes, nor any 
other causes of natural effects, ought to be admitted, but 
such as are both true, and are sufficient for explaining 
their appearances." This is a golden rule ; it is the true 
and proper test, by which what is sound and solid in phi- 
losophy may be distinguished from what is hollow and 
vain.* 

If a philosopher, therefore, pretend to show us the 
cause of any natural effect, whether relating to matter or 
to mind, let us first consider whether there be sufficient 
evidence that the cause he assigns does really exist. If 
there be not, reject it with disdain, as a fiction which ought 
to have no place in genuine philosophy. If the cause as- 
signed really exist, consider in the next place, whether the 
effect it is brought to explain necessarily follows from 
it. Unless it have these two conditions, it is good for 
nothing. 

When Newton had shown the admirable effects of grav- 
itation in our planetary system, he must have felt a strong 
desire to know its cause. He could have invented a hy- 
pothesis for this purpose, as many had done before him. 
But his philosophy was of another complexion. Let us 
hear what he says : — Rationem harum gravitatis proprie- 
tatum ex phcenomenis non potui deducere, et hypotheses 
non jingo. Quicquid enim ex phcenomenis non deducitur, 
hypothesis vocanda est. Et hypotheses, seu metaphysical, 
seu physical, seu qualitalum occultarium, seu mechanicce, 
in philosophic/, experimentali locum non habent. f 

* For this rule we are not indebted to Newton. It is only the old 
law of parsimony, and that ambiguously expressed. For in their plain 
meaning, the words et vera sint are redundant: or what follows is re- 
dundant, and the whole rule a barren truism. — H. [Compare Whewell, 
Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Book XII. Chap. XIII. — Ed.] 

t " 1 have not been able to deduce from phenomena the cause of these 
properties of gravity, and I do not frame hypotheses. For whatever is 
not deduced from phenomena must be termed hypothesis. And hypo- 
theses, whether regarding physics, metaphysics, occult qualities, or me- 
chanics, have no place in experimental philosophy." 

On the use of hypotheses, with its just limitations, compare Stewart, 
Elements, Part II. Chap. IX. §2; Herschel, Preliminary Discourse, 
Part II. Chap. VII.; Mill, System of Logic, Book III. Chap. XIII. 



16 PLELIMINARY ESSAY. 

CHAPTER III. 

OF ANALOGY. 

I. Nature and Uses of Analogical Reasoning.'] It is 
natural to men to judge of things less known by some simil- 
itude they observe, or think they observe, between them 
and things more familiar or better known. In many cases, 
we have no better way of judging. And where the things 
compared have really a great similitude in their na-ture, 
when there is reason to think that they are subject to the 
same laws, there may be a considerable degree of proba- 
bility in conclusions drawn from analogy. 

Thus, we may observe a very great similitude between 
this earth which we inhabit, and the other planets, Saturn, 

§§ 4-7. The latter observes: — "When Newton said, Hypotheses 
non Jingo, he did not mean, that he deprived himself of the facilities of 
investigation afforded by assuming, in the first instance, what he hoped 
ultimately to be able to prove. Without such assumptions, science 
could never have attained its present state : they are necessary steps in 
the progress to something more certain ; and nearly every thing which 
is now theory was once hypothesis. Even in purely experimental sci- 
ence, some inducement is necessary for trying one experiment rather 
than another ; and although it is abstractedly possible that all the experi- 
ments which have been tried might have been produced by the mere 
desire to ascertain what would happen in certain circumstances, with- 
out any previous conjecture as to the result, yet, in point of fact, those 
unobvious, delicate, and often cumbrous and tedious processes of exper- 
iment, which have thrown most light upon the general constitution of 
nature, would hardly ever have been undertaken by the persons or at 
the time they were, unless it had seemed to depend on them whether 
some general doctrine or theory which had been suggested, but not yet 
proved, should be admitted or not. If this be true even of merely ex- 
perimental inquiry, the conversion of experimental into inductive truths 
could still less have been effected without large temporary assistance 
from hypotheses. The process of tracing regularity in any complicated, 
and at first sight confused, set of appearances, is necessarily tentative; 
we begin by making any supposition, even a false one, to see what con- 
sequences will follow from it ; and by observing how these differ from 
the real phenomena, we learn what corrections to make in our supposi- 
tion. Let any one watch the manner in which he himself unravels any 
ccmplicated mass of evidence ; let him observe how, for instance, he 
elicits the true history of any occurrence from the involved statements 
of one or of many witnesses. He will find, that he does not take all 
the items of evidence into his mind at once, and attempt to weave them 
together : the human faculties are not equal to such an undertaking : he 



OF ANALOGY. 17 

Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. They all revolve 
round the sun, as the earth does, although at different dis- 
tances, and in different periods. They borrow all their 
light from the sun, as the earth does. Several of them 
are known to revolve round their axes like the earth, and, 
by that means, must have a like succession of day and 
night. Some of them have moons, that serve to give 
them light in the absence of the sun, as our moon does to 
us. They are all, in their motions, subject to the same 
law of gravitation as the earth is. From all this simili- 
tude, »it is not unreasonable to think, that those planets 
may, like our earth, be the habitation of various orders of 
living creatures. There is some probability in this con- 
clusion from analogy. 

In medicine, physicians must, for the most part, be di- 
rected in their prescriptions by analogy. The constitu- 
tion of one human body is so like to that of another, that it 
is reasonable to think, that what is the cause of health or 



extemporizes, from a few of the particulars, a first rude theory of the 
mj§de in which the facts took place, and then looks at the other state- 
ments, one by one, to try whether they can be reconciled with that pro- 
visional theory, or what corrections or additions it requires to make it 
square with them. In this way, which, as M. Comte remarks, has 
some resemblance to the methods of approximation of mathematicians, 
we arrive, by means of hypotheses, at conclusions not hypothetical." 

In a note he adds: — "The attempt to localize, in different regions 
of the brain, the physical organs of our different mental facidties and 
propensities, was, on the part of its original author, a strictly legitimate 
example of a scientific hypothesis ; and we ought not, therefore, to 
blame him for the extremely slight grounds on which lie often pro- 
ceeded, in an operation which could only be tentative, though we may 
regret that materials barely sufficient for a first rude hypothesis should 
have been hastily worked up by his successors into the vain semblance of 
a science. Whatever there may be of reality in the connection between 
the scale of mental endowments and the various degrees of complication 
in the cerebral system (and that there is some such connection compar- 
ative anatomy seems strongly to indicate), it was in no other way so 
likely to be brought to light as by framing, in the first instance, an hy- 
pothesis similar to that of Gall. But the verification of any such hypoth- 
esis is attended, from the peculiar nature of the phenomena, with dif- 
ficulties which phrenologists have not hitherto shown themselves even 
competent to appreciate, much less to overcome." •- 

That Dr. Reid has pushed his objections too far must be admitted. 
Still, the very example which Mr. Mill has given of a legitimate hy- 
pothesis admonishes us with how much danger to science the resort is 
attended, and strengthens our conviction that the spirit which dictated 
these objections, and which they, in turn, are adapted to inspire, cannot 
be too highly commended. — Ed. 



18 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

sickness to one may have the same effect upon another. 
And this generally is found true, though not without some 
exceptions. 

Tn politics we reason, for the most part, from analogy. 
The constitution of human nature is so similar in different 
societies or commonwealths, that the causes of peace and 
war, of tranquillity and sedition, of riches and poverty, of 
improvement and degeneracy, are much the same in all. 

Analogical reasoning, therefore, is not in all cases to 
be rejected. It may afford a greater or a less degree of 
probability, according as the things compared are more or 
less similar in their nature. But it ought to be observed, 
that, as this kind of reasoning can afford only probable evi- 
dence at best, so, unless great caution be used, we are apt 
to be led into error by it. For men are naturally dis- 
posed to conceive a greater similitude in things than there 
really is.* 

To give an instance of this : Anatomists, in ancient 
ages, seldom dissected human bodies ; but very often the 
bodies of those quadrupeds whose internal structure was 
thought to approach nearest to that of the human body. 
Modern anatomists have discovered many mistakes the 
ancients were led into, by their conceiving a greater simil- 
itude between the structure of men and of some beasts 
than there is in reality. By this, and many other instan- 
ces that might be given, it appears that conclusions built 
on analogy stand on a slippery foundation ; and that we 
ought never to rest upon evidence of this kind, when we 
can have more direct evidence. 

I know no author who has made a more just and a more 
happy use of this mode of reasoning than Bishop Butler, 
in his Analogy of Religion, JVatural and Revealed, to the 
Constitution and Course of JVature. In that excellent 
work, the author does not ground any of the truths of re- 
ligion upon analogy, as their proper evidence. He only 
makes use of analogy to answer objections against them. 

* Berkeley says : — " We should proceed warily in such things, for 
we are apt to lay too great a stress on analogies, and, to the prejudice 
of truth, humor that eagerness of mind whereby it is carried to extend 
its knowledge into general theorems." — Principles of Human Knowl- 
edge, Part I. § 106. — Ed. 



OF ANALOGY. 19 

When objections are made against the truths of religion, 
which may be made with equal strength against what we 
know to be true in the course of nature, such objections 
can have no weight. 

Analogical reasoning, therefore, may be of excellent 
use, (1.) in answering objections against truths which have 
other evidence. It may likewise (2.) give a greater or a less 
degree of probability in cases where we can find no other 
evidence. But all arguments drawn from analogy are 
still the weaker, the greater disparity there is between the 
things compared ; and therefore must be weakest of all, 
when we compare body with mind, because there are no 
two things in nature more unlike. 

II. Why a frequent Source of Error in Mental Science.'] 
There is no subject in which men have always been so 
prone to form their notions by analogies of this kind as in 
what relates to the mind. We form an early acquaintance 
with material things by means of our senses, and are bred 
up in a constant familiarity with them. Hence we are apt 
to measure all things by them, and to ascribe to things 
most remote from matter the qualities that belong to ma- 
terial things. It is for this reason, that mankind have, in 
all ages, been so prone to conceive the mind itself to be 
some subtile kind of matter; that they have been disposed 
to ascribe human figure, and human organs, not only to 
angels, but even to the Deity. Though we are conscious 
of the operations of our own minds when they are exerted, 
and are capable of attending- to them so as to form a dis- 
tinct notion of them, this is so difficult a work to men, 
whose attention is constantly solicited by external objects, 
that we give them names from things that are familiar, 
and which are conceived to have some similitude to them ; 
and the notions we form of them are no less analogical than 
the names we give them. Almost all the words by which 
we express the operations of the mind are borrowed from 
material objects. To understand, to conceive, to imagine, 
to comprehend, to deliberate, to infer, and many others, are 
words of this kind; so that the very language of mankind, 
with regard to the operations of our minds, is analogical. 
Because bodies are affected only by contact and pressure, 



20 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

we are apt to conceive that what is an immediate object of 
thought, and affects the mind., must he in contact with it, 
and make some impression upon it. When we imagine 
any thing, the very word leads us to think that there must 
be some image in the mind of the thing conceived. It is 
evident that these notions are drawn from some similitude 
conceived between body and mind, and between the prop- 
erties of body and the operations of mind. 

To illustrate more fully that analogical reasoning from a 
supposed similitude of mind to body, which I conceive to 
be the most fruitful source of errors with regard to the 
operations of our minds, I shall give an instance of it. 

When a man is urged by contrary motives, those on 
one hand inciting him to do some action, those on the 
other to forbear it, he deliberates about it, and at last re- 
solves to do it, or not to do it. The contrary motives 
are here compared to the weights in the opposite scales of 
a balance ; and there is not, perhaps, any instance that can 
be named of a more striking analogy between body and 
mind. Hence the phrases of weighing motives, of delib- 
erating upon actions, are common to all languages. 

From this analogy some philosophers draw very im- 
portant conclusions. They say, that, as the balance can- 
not incline to one side more than the other, when the op- 
posite weights are equal, so a man cannot possibly deter- 
mine himself, if the motives on both hands are equal; and, 
as the balance must necessarily turn to that side which has 
most weight, so the man must necessarily be determined 
to that hand where the motive is strongest. And on this 
foundation, some of the schoolmen* maintained, that, if a 

* This illustration is specially associated with Joannes Buridanus, a 
celebrated nominalist of the fourteenth century, and one of the acutest 
reasoners on the gi eat question of moral liberty. The supposition of the 
ass, &c, is not, however, as I have ascertained, to be found in his writ- 
ings. Perhaps it was orally advanced in disputation or in lecturing as 
an example in illustration of his determinism ; perhaps it was employed 
by his opponents as an instance to reduce that doctrine to absurdity. 
With this latter view, a similar refutation of the principles of our mod- 
ern fatalists was ingeniously essayed by Reid's friend and kinsman, Dr. 
James Gregory. — H. 

For further illustrations of the grounds and scope of analogical rea- 
soning, see Archbishop Whately's Rhetoric, Part 1. Chap. II. § 6, and 
Mill's System of Logic, Book III. Chap. XX. — Ed. 



MEANS OF KNOWING THE MIND. 21 

hungry ass were placed between two bundles of hay equally 
inviting, the beast must stand still and starve to death, be- 
ing unable to turn to either, because there are equal mo- 
tives to both. This is an instance of that analogical rea- 
soning which I conceive ought never to be trusted ; for 
the analogy between a balance and a man deliberating, 
though one of the strongest that can be found between 
matter and mind, is too weak to support any argument. 
-A piece of dead, inactive matter, and an active, intelligent 
being, are things very unlike ; and because the one would 
remain at rest in a certain case, it does not follow that the 
other would be inactive in a case somewhat similar. The 
argument is no better than this : that, because a dead ani- 
mal moves only as it is pushed, and, if pushed with equal 
force in contrary directions, must remain at rest, therefore 
the same thing must happen to a living animal ; for surely 
the similitude between a dead animal and a living is as 
great as that between a balance and a man. 

The conclusion I would draw from all that has been 
said on analogy is, that, in our inquiries concerning the 
mind and its operations, (1.) we ought never to trust to 
reasonings drawn from some supposed similitude of body 
to mind; and (2.) that we ought to be very much upon our 
guard, that we be not imposed upon by those analogical 
terms and phrases by which the operations of the mind 
are expressed in all languages. 



CHAPTER IV 



ON THE PROPER MEANS OF KNOWING THE OPERA- 
TIONS OF THE MIND. 

I. Subsidiary Sources of Knowledge respecting the 
Mind.'] Since we ought to pay no regard to hypotheses, 
and to be very suspicious of analogical reasoning, it may 
be asked, From what source must the knowledge of the 
mind and its faculties be drawn ? 

I answer, the chief and proper source of this branch of 



22 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

knowledge is accurate reflection upon the operations of 
our own minds. Of this source we shall speak more fully, 
after making some remarks upon two others that may be 
subservient to it. 

1. The first of them is attention to the structure of lan- 
guage. The language of mankind is expressive of their 
thoughts, and of the various operations of their minds. 
The various operations of the understanding, will, and 
passions, which are common to mankind, have various 
forms of speech corresponding to them in all languages, 
which are the signs of them, and by which they are ex- 
pressed ; and a due attention to the signs may, in many 
cases, give considerable light to the things signified by 
them. 

There are in all languages modes of speech, by which 
men signify their judgment, or give their testimony ; by 
which they accept or refuse ; by which they ask informa- 
tion or advice; by which they command, or threaten, or 
supplicate ; by which they plight their faith in promises 
and contracts. If such operations were not common to 
mankind, we should not find in all languages forms of 
speech by which they are expressed. All languages, in- 
deed, have their imperfections ; they can never be ade- 
quate to all the varieties of human thought ; and therefore 
things may be really distinct in their nature, and capable 
of being distinguished by the human mind, which are not 
distinguished in common language. We can only expect, 
in the structure of languages, those distinctions which all 
mankind in the common business of life have occasion to 
make. There may be peculiarities in a particular lan- 
guage, of the causes of which we are ignorant, and from 
which, therefore, we can draw no conclusion. But what- 
ever we find common to all languages must have a com- 
mon cause ; must be owing to some common notion or sen- 
timent of the human mind. 

2. Another source of information on this subject is a 
due attention to the course of human actions and opinions. 
The actions of men are effects ; their sentiments, their 
passions, and their affections are the causes of those ef- 
fects ; and we may, in many cases, form a judgment of the 
cause from the effect. The behaviour of parents towards 



MEANS OF KNOWING THE MIND. 23 

their children gives sufficient evidence even to those who 
never had children, that the parental affection is common 
to mankind. It is easy to see, from the general conduct 
of men, what are the natural objects of their esteem, their 
admiration, their love, their approbation, their resentment, 
and of all their other original dispositions. It is obvious, 
from the conduct of men in all ages, that man is, by his 
nature, a social animal ; that he delights to associate with 
his species, — to converse, and to exchange good offices 
with them. 

Not only the actions, but even the opinions, of men may 
sometimes give light into the frame of the human mind. 
The opinions of men may be considered as the effects of 
their intellectual powers, as their actions are the effects of 
their active principles. Even the prejudices and errors of 
mankind, when they are general, must have some cause 
no less general, the discovery of which will throw some 
light upon the frame of the human understanding. 

I conceive this to be the principal use of the history of 
philosopJiy. When we trace the history of the various 
philosophical opinions that have sprung up among thinking 
men, we are led into a labyrinth of fanciful opinions, con- 
tradictions, and absurdities, intermixed with some truths ; 
yet we may sometimes find a clew to lead us through the 
several windings of this labyrinth ; we may find that point 
of view which presented things to the author of the system 
in the light in which they appeared to him. This will 
often give a consistency to things seemingly contradictory, 
and some degree of probability to those that appeared 
most fanciful. * The history of philosophy, considered 
as a map of the intellectual operations of men of genius, 
must always be entertaining, and may sometimes give us 
views of the human understanding which could not easily 
be had any other way. 

II. Consciousness and Reflection.] I return to what I 
mentioned as the main source of information on this sub- 
ject, — attentive reflection upon the operations of our own 
minds. 

* " Every error," says Bossuet, " is a truth abused." — H. 



24 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

All the notions we have of mind and of its operations 
are, by Mr. Locke, called ideas of reflection.* A man 
may have as distinct notions of remembrance, of judgment, 
of will, of desire, as he has of any object whatever. Such 
notions, as Mr. Locke justly observes, are got by the 
power of reflection. But what is this power of reflection ? 
It is, says the same author, " that power by which the 
mind turns its view inward, and observes its own actions 
and operations." He observes elsewhere, that the un- 
derstanding, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and 
perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself ; f and 
that it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and 
make it its own object. 

This reflection ought to be distinguished from conscious- 
ness, with which it is too often confounded, even by Mr. 
Locke. From infancy, till we come to the years of un- 
derstanding, we are employed solely about external objects ; 
and, although the mind is conscious of its operations, it 
does not attend to them ; its attention is turned solely to 
the external objects about which those operations are 
employed. Thus, when a man is angry, he is conscious 
of his passions ; but his attention is turned to the person 
who offended him, and the circumstances of the offence, 
while the passion of anger is not in the least the object of 
his attention. 

I conceive this is sufficient to show the difference be- 
tween consciousness of the operations of our minds, and 
reflection upon them; and to show that we may have the 
former without any degree of the latter. The difference 
between consciousness and reflection is like to the differ- 
ence between a superficial view of an object which pre- 
sents itself to the eye while we are engaged about some- 
thing else, and that attentive examination which we give to 
an object when we are wholly employed in surveying it. 
Attention is a voluntary act; it requires an active exertion 
to begin and to continue it, and it may be continued as 

* Eocke is not (as Reid seems to think, and as Mr. Stewart expressly 
says) the first who introduced reflection, either as a psychological term 
or as a psychological principle. See Note I. — H. 

t After Cicero : — "At ut oculus, sic animus se non videns alia 
cernit." Tusc, I. 28. — Ed. 



OF THE OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 25 

long as we will ; but consciousness is involuntary and of 
no continuance, changing with every thought. 

The power of reflection upon the operations of their 
own minds does not appear at all in children. Men must 
be come to some ripeness of understanding before they 
are capable of it. Of all the powers of the human mind, 
it seems to be the last that unfolds itself. Most men seem 
incapable of acquiring it in any considerable degree. Like 
all our other powers, it is greatly improved by exercise; 
and, until a man has got the habit of attending to the oper- 
ations of his own mind, he can never have clear and dis- 
tinct notions of them, nor form any steady judgment con- 
cerning them. His opinions must be borrowed from 
others, his notions confused and indistinct, and he may 
easily be led to swallow very gross absurdities. To ac- 
quire this habit is a work of time and labor, even in 
those who begin it early, and whose natural talents are 
tolerably fitted for it; but the difficulty will be daily di- 
minishing, and the advantage of it is great. They will 
thereby be enabled to think with precision and accuracy 
on every subject, especially on those subjects that are 
more abstract. They will be able to judg'e for themselves 
in many important points, wherein others must blindly 
follow a leader.* 

* Consciousness is not a special faculty coordinate with perception 
and memory, but a general condition of mind considered as self-know- 
ing, by which all the mental faculties are made available. Through 
consciousness the mind not only knows itself and the changes it under- 
goes, but also whatever it knows by means of any of its special facul- 
ties. We are conscious of what we remember ; we are conscious of 
what we perceive ; we are conscious of what we feel. Accordingly, as 
Sir W. Hamilton intimates elsewhere, the various faculties may be re- 
garded as special modifications of consciousness. If consciousness fails, 
all the special faculties fail. Very frequently, however, the term is 
used in a restricted sense, signifying the notice which the mind takes of 
itself and its operations and affections ; or internal observation in con- 
tradistinction to external observation, its acts being called by some, not 
perceptions, but apperceptions. So understood, consciousness is the wit- 
ness and authority of all proper psychological facts. 

Thus Jouffroy : — " What is consciousness ? It is the feeling which 
the intelligent principle has of itself. This principle has the feeling of 
itself, and hence, the consciousness of all the changes, all the modifica- 
tions, which it undergoes. The only phenomena, then, of which it can 
have the consciousness, are those which are produced icithin itself. 
Those which are produced beyond itself, it can see ; but it cannot feel 

3 



26 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

CHAPTER V. 

DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. 

I. Division of the Mental Powers into Understanding 
and Will.] The powers of the mind are so many, so 
various, and so connected and complicated in most of its 
operations, that there never has heeh any division of them 
proposed which is not liable to considerable objections. 
We shall therefore take that general division, which is the 
most common, into the powers of understanding and those 
otwill. Under the will we comprehend our active powers, 
and all that lead to action, or influence the mind to act, 

them. It can, then, have the consciousness of its sensations, because it 
is itself which enjoys or suffers; or of its thoughts, its determinations, 
because it is itself which thinks and determines : but it can have no 
consciousness of muscular contraction, of digestion, of the circulation of 
the blood, because it is the muscle which contracts, the stomach which 
digests, the blood which circulates, and not itself. These phenomena, 
then, are precisely in the same relation to it as the phenomena of ex- 
ternal nature ; they are produced beyond it, and it can have no conscious- 
ness of them. Such is the true reason of the incapability of the con- 
sciousness to seize a multitude of phenomena which take place in the 
body, but which, on that account, are none the less exterior to the intel- 
ligent principle, to the real me [ego]. On the other hand, the phenom- 
ena of consciousness being only the inward modifications of the intel- 
ligent principle, that alone can perceive them, because it is that alone 
which experiences them, and because, in order to perceive them, it is 
necessary to feel them. For this reason, the phenomena of conscious- 
ness necessarily escape all external observation." — Ripley's Philo- 
sophical Miscellanies, Vol. II. p. 15. 

To the same effect Cousin : — " But is a knowledge of human nature, 
is psychology, possible ? Without doubt it is ; for it is an undeniable 
fact, that nothing passes within us which we do not know, of which we 
have not a consciousness. Consciousness is a witness which gives us 
information of every thing which takes place in the interior of our 
minds. It is not the principle of any of our faculties, but is a light to 
them all. It is not because we have the consciousness of it, that any 
thing goes on within us ; but that which goes on within us would be to 
us as though it did not take place, if it were not attested by conscious- 
ness. It is not by consciousness that we feel, or will, or think ; but it is 

by it that we know that we do all this Consciousness is indeed 

more or less distinct, more or less vivid, but it is in all men. No one is 
unknown to himself, although very few know themselves perfectly, be- 
cause all, or nearly all, make use of consciousness without applying 
themselves to perfect, unfold, and understand it, by voluntary effort aiid 
attention. In all men consciousness is a natural process ; some elevate 



DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. 27 

such as appetites, passions, affections. The understand- 
ing comprehends our contemplative powers ; by which we 
perceive objects ; by which we conceive or remember 
them ; by which we analyze or compound them ; and by 
which we judge and reason concerning them. 

Although this general division may be of use in order to 
our proceeding more methodically in our subject, we are 
not to understand it as if, in those operations which are 
ascribed to the understanding, there were no exertion of 
will or activity, or as if the understanding were not em- 
ployed in the operations ascribed to the will ; for I con- 
ceive there is no operation of the understanding wherein 
the mind is not active in some degree. We have some 
command over our thoughts, and can attend to this or that, 
of many objects which present themselves to our senses, 
to our memory, or to our imagination. We can survey 

this natural process to the degree of an art, a method, by reflection, 
which is a sort of second consciousness, a free reproduction of the first ; 
and as consciousness gives to all men a knowledge of what passes within 
them, so reflection gives the philosopher a certain knowledge of every 
thing which falls under the eye of consciousness. It is to be observed, 
that the question here is not concerning hypotheses or conjectures ; for 
it is not even a question concerning a process of reasoning. It is solely 
a question of facts, and of facts that are equally capable of being ob- 
served as those which come to pass on the scene of the outward world. 
The only difference is, the one is exterior, the other interior; and as the 
natural action of our faculties carries us outward, it is more easy to ob- 
serve the one than the other. But with a little attention, voluntary ex- 
ertion, and practice^ one may succeed in internal observation as well as 
in external. The talent for the latter is not more common than for the 
former. The number of Bacons is not greater than the number of 
Descartes." 

In a note the translator, Professor Henry, adds : — "In regard to the 
distinction between the natural or spontaneous, and the philosophical 
or reflected consciousness, it may be remarked, that, while Locke uses 
the word reflection to signify the natural consciousness common to all 
reflecting beings, Cousin uses it above to imply a particular determina- 
tion of consciousness by the will. Coleridge makes the same distinction 
with Cousin ; but he does not consider the power of philosophical 
insight to be as common as Cousin would make it. ' It is neither pos- 
sible,' says he, ' nor necessary for all men, or for many, to be philoso- 
phers. There is a. philosophic (and, inasmuch as it is actualized by an 
effort of freedom, an artificial) consciousness which lies beneath, or, as 
it were, behind, the spontaneous consciousness natural to all reflecting be- 
ings.' " — Elements of Psychology, Chap. I. Compare Brown, Lectures, 
Lect. XI. ; Fearn, Essay on Consciousness, p. 15 et seq. ; Dictionnaire 
des Sciences Philosophiques, Art. Conscience ; also, in Blackwood's Edin- 
burgh Magazine, Vol. XLIII.-XLV., a series of ingenious papers, 
entitled An Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness. — Ed. 



28 PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 

an object on this side or that, superficially or accurately, 
for a longer or a shorter time ; so that our contemplative 
powers are under the guidance and direction of the active ; 
and the former never pursue their object, without being 
led and directed, urged or restrained, by the latter : and 
because the understanding is always more or less directed 
by the will, mankind have ascribed some degree of activity 
to the mind in its intellectual operations, as well as in 
those which belong to the will, and have expressed them 
by active verbs, such as seeing, hearing, judging, reason- 
ing, and the like. 

And as the mind exerts some degree of activity even in 
the operations of understanding, so it is certain that there 
can be no act of will which is not accompanied with some 
act of understanding. The will must have an object, and 
that object must be apprehended or conceived in the un- 
derstanding. It is therefore to be remembered, that in 
most, if not all, operations of the mind, both faculties ^con- 
cur; and we range the operation under that faculty which 
has the largest share in it.* 

II. Subdivision of the Powers of the Understanding.] 
There is not a more fruitful source of error in this 
branch of philosophy, than divisions of things which are 
taken to be complete when they are not really so. To 



* It would be out of place to enter on the extensive field of history 
and discussion relative to the distribution of our mental powers. It is 
sufficient to say, that the vulgar division of the faculties, adopted by 
Reid, into those of the understanding and those of the will, is to be 
traced to the classification, taken in the Aristotelic school, of the pow- 
ers into gnostic, or cognitive, and orectic, or appetent. On this the 
reader may consult the admirable introduction of Philoponus — or 
rather of Ammonius Hermise — to the books of Aristotle Upon the Soul. 

— H. 

The threefold division of the mind into intellect, sensibility, and will 

— to think, to feel, and to act — is now generally adopted by psycholo- 
gists. See it stated and defended in Dictionnaire des Scie?ices Philoso- 
phiques, Art. Facultes de I'Jlme. Also in Upham's Mental Philosophy, 
Introduction, Chap. IV. 

Another classification is given by Jouffroy : — "In the actual state of 
human knowledge, the irreducible capacities of the human mind appear 
to me to be the following. First, the personal faculty, or the supreme 
power of taking possession of ourselves and of our capacities, and of 
controlling them : this faculty is known by the name of liberty or icill, 
which designates it but imperfectly. Secondly, the primitive inclina- 



DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. 29 

make a perfect division of any class of things, a man ought 
to have the whole under his view at once. But the great- 
est capacity very often is not sufficient for this. Some- 
thing is left out which did not come under the philosopher's 
view when he made his division : and to suit this to the 
division, it must be made what nature never made it. This 
has been so common a fault of philosophers, that one who 
would avoid error ought to be suspicious of divisions, 
though long received and of great authority, especially 
when they are grounded on a theory that may be called 
m question. In a subject imperfectly known, we ought 
not to pretend to perfect divisions, but to leave room for 
such additions or alterations as a more perfect view of the 
subject may afterwards suggest. 

I shall not, therefore, attempt a complete enumeration 
of the powers of the human understanding. I shall only 
mention those which I propose to explain, and they are 
the following : — 

First, The powers we have by means of our external 
senses. Secondly, Memory. Thirdly, Conception. 
Fourthly, The powers of resolving and analyzing com- 
plex objects, and compounding those that are more sim- 
ple. Fifthly, Judging. Sixthly, Reasoning. Seventhly, 
Taste.* 



tions of our nature, or that aggregate of instincts or tendencies which 
impel us towards certain ends and in certain directions, prior to all ex- 
perience, and which at once suggest to reason the destiny of our being, 
and animate our activity to pursue it. Thirdly, the locomotive faculty, 
or that energy by means of which we move the locomotive nerves, and 
produce all the voluntary bodily movements. Fourthly, the expressive 
faculty, or the power of representing by external signs that which takes 
place within us, and of thus holding communication with our fellow- 
men. Fifthly, sensibility, or the capacity of being agreeably or disa- 
greeably affected by all external or internal causes, and of reacting in 
relation to them by movements of love or hatred, of desire or aversion, 
which are the principle of all passion. 'Sixthly, the intellectual faculties : 
this term comprises many distinct faculties, which can only be enumer- 
ated and described in a treatise on Intelligence." — Ripley's Philosophi- 
cal Miscellanies, Vol. I. p. 382. — Ed. 

* To these Dr. Reid added, — " Eighthly, Moral Perception ; and, last 
of all, Consciousness." I omit the clause, because Moral Perception is 
not treated by him in this work, but in another On the Jlctive Powers, 
Essay V.; and Consciousness obtains only an incidental consideration, 
under Judgment, in the sixth Essay. On the impropriety of regarding 
3* 



ESSAY II. 

OF THE POWERS WE HAVE BY MEANS OF OUR 
EXTERNAL SENSES. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE. 

I, General Remarks.'] Of all the operations of our 
minds, the perception of external objects is the most fa- 
miliar. The senses come to maturity even in infancy, when 
other powers have not yet sprung up. They are common 
to us with brute animals, and furnish us with the objects 
about which our other powers are the most frequently em- 
ployed. We find it easy to attend to their operations; 
and because they are familiar, the names which properly 
belong to them are applied to other powers which are 
thought to resemble them. For these reasons they claim to 
be first considered. 

The perception of external objects is one main link of 
that mysterious chain which connects the material world 
with the intellectual. We shall find many things in this 
operation unaccountable; sufficient to convince us, that we 
know but little of our own frame; and that a perfect com- 
prehension of our mental powers, and of the manner 



consciousness as one of the coordinate special faculties of the under- 
standing, see p. 25, note. 

Dr. Brown reduces all the proper intellectual powers (or " states," as 
he prefers to call them) to simple and relative suggestion. To the for- 
mer he refers perception, (as distinguished from sensation,) conception, 
memory, imagination, and habit; to the latter, judgment, reason, and 
abstraction. Lectures, Lect. XVI. et passim. For a defence of the 
same see Payne's Elements of Mental and Moral Science, Chap. VI. — Ed. 



OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE. 31 

of their operation, is beyond the reach of our under- 
standing. 

In perception there are impressions upon the organs 
of sense, the nerves, and brain, which, by the laws of 
our nature, are followed by certain operations of mind. 
These two things are apt to be confounded, but ought most 
carefully to be distinguished. Some philosophers, with- 
out good reason, have concluded that the impressions 
made on the body are the proper efficient cause of percep- 
tion. Others, with as little reason, have concluded that 
impressions are made on the mind similar to those made 
on the body. From these mistakes many others have 
arisen. The wrong notions men have rashly taken up 
with regard to the senses have led to wrong notions with 
regard to other powers which are conceived to resemble 
them. Many important powers of mind have, especially 
of late, been called internal senses, from a supposed re- 
semblance to the external; such as the sense of beauty, 
the sense of harmony, the moral sense. And it is to be 
apprehended, that errors with regard to the external 
have, from analogy, led to similar errors with regard to 
the internal; it is therefore of some consequence, even 
with regard to other branches of our subject, to have just 
notions concerning the external senses. 

II. The Laws of Perception considered in Relation to 
the Organs of Sense.] In order to this, we shall begin 
with some observations on the organs of sense, and on the 
impressions which in perception are made upon them, and 
upon the nerves and brain. 

1 . We perceive no external object but by means of cer- 
tain bodily organs which God has given us for that pur- 
pose. The Supreme Being who made us, and placed us 
in this world, has given us such powers of mind as he 
saw to be suited to our state and rank in his creation. 
He has given us the power of perceiving many objects 
around us, — the sun, moon, and stars, the earth and sea, 
and a variety of animals, vegetables, and inanimate bodies. 
But our power of perceiving these objects is limited in 
various ways, and particularly in this, that without the or- 
gans of the several senses we perceive no external object. 



32 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

"We cannot see without eyes, nor hear without ears: it is 
not only necessary that we should have these organs, but 
that they should be in a sound and natural state. There 
are many disorders of the eye that cause total blindness; 
others that impair the powers of vision, without destroy- 
ing it altogether; and the same may be said of the organs 
of all the other senses. 

All this is so well known from experience, that it needs 
no proof; but it ought to be observed, that we know it 
from experience only. We can give no reason for it, but 
that such is the will of our Maker. No man can show it 
to be impossible to the Supreme Being to have given us 
the power of perceiving external objects without such or- 
gans. We have reason to believe, that, when we put off 
these bodies, and all the organs belonging to them, our 
perceptive powers shall rather be improved than destroyed 
or impaired. We have reason to believe that the Su- 
preme Being perceives every thing in a much more per- 
fect manner than we do, without bodily organs. We have 
reason to believe that there are other created beings en- 
dowed with powers of perception more perfect and more 
extensive than ours, without any such organs as we find 
necessary. 

We ought not, therefore, to conclude, that such bodily 
organs are, in their own nature, necessary to perception; 
but rather, that, by the will of God, our power of perceiv- 
ing external objects is limited to and circumscribed by our 
organs of sense; so that we perceive objects in a certain 
manner, and in certain circumstances, and in no other.* 

* " Among the well-attested facts of physiology," says Miiller, per- 
haps the highest authority on the subject, " there is not one to support 
the belief that one nerve of sense can assume the functions of another. 
The exaggeration of the sense of touch in the blind will not, in these 
days, be called seeing with the fingers ; the accounts of the power of vis- 
ion by the fingers and epigastrium, said to be possessed in the so-called 
magnetic state, appear to be mere fables, and the instances in which it 
has been pretended to practise it, cases of deception." And again : — 
" It is quite in accordance with the laws of science, that a person sleep- 
ing shall have ocular spectra, — we experience them sometimes when 
the eyes are closed, even before falling asleep, — for the nerves of vision 
may be excited to sensation by internal as well as by external causes ; 
and so long as a magnetic patient manifests merely the ordinary phe- 
nomena of nervous action that are seen in other disorders of the nervous 
system, it is all creditable enough. But when such a person pretends 



OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE. 33 

If a man was shut up in a dark room, so that he could 
see nothing but through one small hole in the shutter of a 
window, would he conclude that the hole is the cause of 
his seeing, and that it is impossible to see any other way ? 
Perhaps, if he had never in his life seen but in this way, 
he might be apt to think so; but the conclusion is rash and 
groundless. He sees because God has given him the 
power of seeing ; and he sees only through this small hole, 
because his power of seeing is circumscribed by impedi- 
ments on all other hands. 

Another necessary caution in this matter is, that we 
ought not to confound the organs of perception with the 
being that perceives. Perception must be the act of some 
being that perceives. The eye is not that which sees; it 
is only the organ by which we see. The ear is not that 
which hears, but the organ by which we hear; and so of 
the rest.* 

A man cannot see the satellites of Jupiter but by a tel- 
escope. Does he conclude from this, that it is the tel- 
escope that sees those stars ? By no means; such a con- 
clusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to conclude 
that it is the eye that sees or the ear that hears. The 
telescope is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. 
The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see; but 
the natural organ sees as little as the artificial. 

The eye is a machine most admirably contrived for re- 
fracting the rays of light, and forming a distinct picture of 
objects upon the retina; but it sees neither the object nor 
the picture. It can form the picture after it is taken out 
of the head; but no vision ensues. Even when it is in its 



to see through a bandage placed before the eyes, or by means of the 
fingers or the epigastrium, or to see round a corner and into a neighbour- 
ing house, or to become prophetic, such arrant imposture no longer de- 
serves forbearance, and an open and sound exposure of the deception is 
called for." — Elements of Pkysiology, Vol II. pp. 1071, 1125. See also 
Carpenter's Principles of Human Physiology, § 311. 

* This doctrine may "be traced back to Aristotle and his school, and 
even higher. " There is extant," says Plutarch, " a discourse of Strato 
Physicus, demonstrating that a sensitive apprehension is wholly impossi- 
ble without an act of intellect ." (Op. Mor., p. 961.) And as to Aristotle 
himself: — "To divorce," he says, "sensation from understanding's 
to reduce sensation to an insensible process ; wherefore it has been said, 
intellect sees, and intellect hears." (Probl., XI. 33.) — H. 



34 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

proper place, and perfectly sound, it is well known that 
an obstruction in the optic nerve takes away vision, though 
the eye has performed all that belongs to it. 

If any thing more were necessary to be said on a point 
so evident, we might observe, that if the faculty of seeing 
were in the eye, that of hearing in the ear, and so of the 
other senses, the necessary consequence of this would be, 
that the thinking principle, which I call myself, is not one, 
but many. But this is contrary to the irresistible convic- 
tion of every man. When I say, /see, /hear, /feel, / 
remember, this implies that it is one and the same self 
that performs all these operations; and as it would be ab- 
surd to say, that my memory, another man's imagination, 
and a third man's reason, may make one individual intelli- 
gent being, it would be equally absurd to say, that one 
piece of matter seeing, another hearing, and a third feeling, 
may make one and the same percipient being. 

2. A second law of our nature regarding perception is, 
that we perceive no object, unless some impression is made 
upon the organ of sense, either by the immediate applica- 
tion of the object, or by some medium which passes between 
the object and the organ. 

In two of our senses, to wit, touch and taste, there 
must be an immediate application of the object to the organ. 
In the other three, the object is perceived at a distance, 
but still by means of a medium, by which some impres- 
sion is made upon the organ.* 

The effluvia of bodies drawn into the nostrils with the 
breath are the medium of smell; the undulations of the air 
are the medium of hearing; and the rays of light passing 
from visible objects to the eye are the medium of sight. 



* This distinction of a mediate and immediate object, or of an object 
and a medium, in perception, is inaccurate, and a source of sad confu- 
sion. We perceive, and can perceive, nothing but what is in relation 
to the organ, and nothing is in relation to the organ that is not present 
to it. All the senses are, in fact, modifications of touch, as Democritus 
of old taught. We reach the distant reality, not by sense, not by per- 
ception, but by inference. Thus it is inaccurate to say, as Reid does in 
the next sentence, that " the effluvia of bodies" are "the medium of 
smell." Nothing is smelt but the effluvia themselves. They consti- 
tute the total object of perception in smell. Reid, however, in this only 
follows his predecessors. — H. 



OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE. 35 

We see no object unless rays of light come from it to the 
eye. We hear not the sound of any body, unless the vi- 
brations of some elastic medium, occasioned by the trem- 
ulous motion of the sounding body, reach our ear. We 
perceive no smell, unless the effluvia of the smelling body 
enter into the nostrils. We perceive no taste, unless the 
sapid body be applied to the tongue, or some part of the 
organ of taste. Nor do we perceive any tangible quality of a 
body, unless it touch the hands, or some part of our body. 

These are facts known from experience to hold univer- 
sally and invariably, both in men and brutes. By this 
law of our nature, our powers of perceiving external ob- 
jects are further limited and circumscribed. Nor can we 
give any other reason for this, than that it is the will of 
our Maker, who knows best what powers, and what de- 
grees of them, are suited to our state. We were once in 
a state, (I mean in the womb,) wherein our powers of 
perception were more limited than in the present, and 
in a future state they may be more enlarged. 

3. It is likewise a law of our nature, that, in order to 
our perceiving objects, the impressions made upon the 
organs of sense must be communicated to the nerves, and by 
them to the brain. This is perfectly known to those who 
know any thing of anatomy. 

The nerves are fine cords, which pass from the brain, 
or from the spinal marrow, which is a production of the 
brain, to all parts of the body, dividing into smaller 
branches as they proceed, until at last they escape our 
eyesight: and it is found by experience, that all the vol- 
untary and involuntary motions of the body are performed 
by their means. When the nerves that serve any limb 
are cut, or tied hard, we have then no more power to 
move that limb than if it was no part of the body. 

As there are nerves that serve the muscular motions, 
so there are others that serve the several senses; and as 
without the former we cannot move a limb, so without the 
latter we can have no perception. 

This train of machinery the wisdom of God has made 
necessary to our perceiving objects. Various parts of 
the body concur to it, and each has its own function. 
First, The object either immediately, or by some medium, 



36 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

must make an impression on the organ. The organ 
serves only as a medium, by which an impression is made 
on the nerve; and the nerve serves as a medium to make 
an impression upon the brain. Here the material part 
ends; at least, we can trace it no farther; the rest is all in- 
tellectual. 

The proof of these impressions upon the nerves and 
brain in perception is this, that, from many observations 
and experiments, it is found, that when the organ of any 
sense is perfectly sound, and has the impression made 
upon it by the object ever so strongly, yet, if the nerve 
which serves that organ be cut or tied hard, there is no 
perception; and it is well known, that disorders in the 
brain deprive us of the power of perception, when both 
the organ and its nerve are sound. 

There is, therefere, sufficient reason to conclude, that, 
in perception, the object produces some change in the 
organ; that the organ produces some change upon the 
nerve; and that the nerve produces some change in the 
brain. And we give the name of an impression to those 
changes, because we have not a name more proper to ex- 
press, in a general manner, any change produced in a 
body, by an external cause, without specifying the nature 
of that change. Whether it be pressure, or attraction, or 
repulsion, or vibration, or something unknown, for which 
we have no name, still it may be called an impression. 
But with regard to the particular kind of this change or 
impression, philosophers have never been able to discover 
any thing at all. 

But, whatever be the nature of those impressions upon 
the organs, nerves, and brain, we perceive nothing with- 
out them. Experience informs us that it is so; but we can- 
not give a reason why it is so. In the constitution of 
man, perception, by fixed laws of nature, is connected 
with those impressions; but we can discover no necessary 
connection. The Supreme Being has seen fit to limit 
our power of perception, so that we perceive not without 
such impressions; and this is all we know of the matter. 

This, however, we have reason to conclude in general, 
— that, as the impressions on the organs, nerves, and brain 
correspond exactly to the nature and conditions of the ob- 



THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. HARTLEY. 37 

jects by which they are made, so our perceptions and sen- 
sations correspond to those impressions, and vary in kind, 
and in degree, as they vary. Without this exact corre- 
spondence, the information we receive by our senses would 
not only be imperfect, as it undoubtedly is, but would be 
fallacious, which we have no reason to think it is.* 



CHAPTER II. 

HARTLEY'S THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. 

I. Historical Notices.] We are informed by anato- 
mists, that although the two coats which inclose a nerve, 

* Physiologists will not allow us to hold the doctrine taught in this 
chapter in such a sense as to exclude what are called svbjective sensa- 
tions. "Every one," says Muller, "is aware how common it is to see 
bright colors while the eyes are closed, particularly in the morning, 
when the irritability of the nerves is still considerable. These phe- 
nomena are very frequent in children after waking from sleep. Through 
the sense of vision, we receive from external nature no impressions 
which we may not also experience from internal excitement of our 
nerves; and it is evident that a person blind from infancy, in conse- 
quence of opacity of the transparent media of the eye, must have a per- 
fect internal conception of light and colors, provided the retina and optic 
nerve be free from lesion. The prevalent notions with regard to the 
wonderful sensations supposed to be experienced by persons blind from 
birth, when their sight is restored by operation, are exaggerated and in- 
correct. The elements of the sensation of vision, namely, the sensa- 
tions of light, color, and darkness, must have been previously as well 
known to such persons as to those of whom the sight has always been 
perfect. The sensations of hearing, also, are excited as well by internal 
as by external causes; for whenever the auditory nerve is in a state of 
excitement, the sensations peculiar to it, as the sounds of ringing, hum- 
ming, &c, are produced. JSo further proof is wanting, to show that 
external influences give rise in our senses to no other sensations than 
those which may be excited in the corresponding nerves by internal 
causes." — Elements, Vol. II. p. 1060. 

Carpenter explains the possibility of these phenomena by observing, 
— " With regard to all kinds of sensation, it is to be remembered that 
the change of which the mind is informed is not the change at the 
peripheral extremities of the nerves, but the change communicated to 
the sensorium ; hence it results, that external agencies can give rise to 
no kind of sensation, which cannot also be produced by internal causes, 
exciting changes in the condition of the nerves in their course." — Prin- 
ciples, \ 310.— Ed. 

4 



38 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

and which it derives from the coats of the brain, are tough 
and elastic, yet the nerve itself has a very small degree of 
consistence, being almost like marrow. It has, however, 
a fibrous texture, and may be divided and subdivided, till 
its fibres escape our senses. And as we know so very 
little about the texture of the nerves, there is great room 
left for those who choose to indulge themselves in conjec- 
ture. 

The ancients conjectured that the nervous fibres are 
fine tubes, filled with a very subtile spirit or vapor, which 
they called animal spirits; that the brain is a gland, by 
which the animal spirits are secreted from the finer part of 
the blood, and their continual waste repaired; and that it 
is by these animal spirits that the nerves perform their 
functions. Descartes has shown how, by these animal 
spirits going and returning in the nerves, muscular motion, 
perception, memory, and imagination are effected. All 
this he has described as distinctly as if he had been an 
eyewitness of all those operations. But it happens that 
the tubular structure of the nerves was never perceived by 
the human eye, nor shown by the nicest injections; and all 
that has been said about animal spirits, through more than 
fifteen centuries, is mere conjecture. 

Dr. Briggs, who was Sir Isaac Newton's master in 
anatomy, was the first, as far as I know, who advanced a 
new system concerning the nerves.* He conceived them 
to be solid filaments of prodigious tenuity; and this opinion, 
as it accords better with observation, seems to have been 
more generally received since his time. As to the manner 
of performing their office, Dr. Briggs thought, that, like 
musical cords, they have vibrations differing according to 
their length and tension. They seem, however, very unfit 
fjpr this purpose, on account of their want of tenacity, 
their moisture, and being through their whole length in 

* Briggs was not the first. The Jesuit, Honoratus Fabry, had before 
him denied the old hypothesis of spirits; and the new hypothesis of 
cerebral fibres or fibrils, by which he explains the phenomena of 
sense, imagination, and memory, is not only the first, but perhaps the 
most ingenious of the class that has been proposed. Yet the very name 
of Fabry is wholly unnoticed by those historians of philosophy who 
do not deem it superfluous to dwell on the tiresome reveries of Briggs, 
Hartley, and Bonnet. — H. 



THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. HARTLEY. 39 

contact with moist substances : so that, although Dr. Briggs 
wrote a book upon this system, called Nova Visionis 
Theoria, it seems not to have been much followed. 

Sir Isaac Newton, in all his philosophical writings, took 
great care to distinguish his doctrines, which he intended 
to prove by just induction, from his conjectures, which 
were to stand or fall, according as future experiments and 
observations should establish or refute them. His conjec- 
tures he has put in the form of queries, that they might 
not be received as truths, but be inquired into, and deter- 
mined according to the evidence to be found for or against 
them. Those who mistake his queries for a part of his 
doctrine do him great injustice, and degrade him to the 
rank of the common herd of philosophers, who have, in all 
ages, adulterated phHosophy, by mixing conjecture with 
truth, and their own fancies with the oracles of nature. 
Among other queries, this truly great philosopher proposed 
this, — Whether there may not be an elastic medium, or 
ether, immensely more rare than air, which pervades all 
bodies, and which is the cause of gravitation; of the re- 
fraction and reflection of the rays of light; of the transmis- 
sion of heat, through spaces void of air; and of many other 
phenomena ? In the 23d query subjoined to his Optics, 
he puts this question, with regard to the impressions made 
on the nerves and brain in perception, — Whether vision 
is effected chiefly by the vibrations of this medium, ex- 
cited in the bottom of the eye by the rays of light, and 
propagated along the solid, pellucid, and uniform capilla- 
ments of the optic nerve ? And whether hearing is 
effected by the vibrations of this or some "other medium, 
excited by the tremor of the air in the auditory nerves, 
and propagated along the solid, pellucid, and uniform ca- 
pillaments of those nerves ? And so with regard to the 
other senses. 

What Newton only proposed as a matter to be inquired 
into, Dr. Hartley conceived to have such evidence, that, 
in his Observations on Man, he has deduced, in a math- 
ematical form, a very ample system concerning the facul- 
ties of the mind, from the doctrine of vibrations, joined 
with that of association.* 

* David Hartley was born at Armley, in the county of York, August 



40 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION, 

His notion of the vibrations excited in the nerves is 
expressed in the fourth and fifth Propositions in Part I. 
Chap. I. Sect. I. " Proposition 4. External objects 
impressed on the senses occasion, first in the nerves on 
which they are impressed, and then in the brain, vibrations 
of the small, and, as one may say, infinitesimal medullary 
particles. Proposition 5. The vibrations mentioned in 
the last proposition are excited, propagated, and kept up, 
partly by the ether, that is, by a very subtile elastic fluid; 
partly by the uniformity, continuity, softness, and active 
powers of the medullary substance of the brain, spinal 
marrow, and nerves." 

The modesty and diffidence with which Dr. Hartley 
offers his system to the world, by desiring his reader "to 
expect nothing but hints and conjectures in difficult and 
obscure matters, and a short detail of the principal reasons 
and evidences in those that are clear; by acknowledging 
that he shall not be able to execute, with any accuracy, 
the proper method of philosophizing, recommended and 
followed by Sir Isaac Newton ; and that he will attempt a 
sketch only for the benefit of future inquirers," — seem to 
forbid any criticism upon it. One cannot, without reluc- 
tance, criticize what is proposed in such a manner, and 
with so good intention ; yet, as the tendency of this sys- 
tem of vibrations is to make all the operations of the 
mind mere mechanism, dependent on the laws of matter 
and motion, and as it has been held forth by its votaries 
as in a manner demonstrated, I shall make some remarks 
on that part of the system which relates to the impressions 
made on the nerves and brain in perception. 

II. Refutation of the Theory.'] It may be observed, in 
general, that Dr. Hartley's work consists of a chain of 
propositions, with their proofs and corollaries, digested in 
good order, and in a scientific, form. A great part of 

30, 1705, and died at Bath, August 28, 1757. His Observations were 
first published in 1749. Pistorius translated the work into German, with 
valuable "Notes and Additions," which are now commonly appended, 
in English, to the best editions of the original. In the Metaphysical 
Tracts by English Philosophers of the Eighteenth Century, there is one, 
Conjectural quadam de Sensu, Motu, et ldearum Generatione, which is 
ascribed to Hartley. — Ed. 



THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. HARTLEY. 41 

them, however, are, as he candidly acknowledges, con- 
jectures and hints only ; yet these are mixed with the 
propositions legitimately proved, without any distinction. 
Corollaries are drawn from them, and other propositions 
grounded upon them, which, all taken together, make up a 
system. A system of this kind resembles a chain, of 
which some links are abundantly strong, others very weak. 
The strength of the chain is determined by that of the 
weakest links ; for if they give way, the whole falls to 
pieces, and the weight supported by it falls to the 
ground. 

As to the vibrations and vibratiuncles, whether of an 
elastic ether, or of the infinitesimal particles of the brain 
and nerves, there may be such things for what we know ; 
and men may rationally inquire whether they can find any 
evidence of their existence ; but while we have no proof 
of their existence, to apply them to the solution of phe- 
nomena, and to build a system upon them, is what I con- 
ceive we call building a castle in the air. 

When men pretend to account for any of the opera- 
tions of nature, the causes assigned by them ought, as 
Sir Isaac Newton has taught us, to have two conditions, 
otherwise they are good for nothing. First, They ought 
to be true, to have a real existence, and not to be barely 
conjectured to exist, without proof. Secondly, They 
ought to be sufficient to produce the effect. 

As to the existence of vibratory motions in the medul- 
lary substance of the nerves and brain, the evidence pro- 
duced is this : — First, It is observed, that the sensations 
of seeing and hearing, and some sensations of touch, have 
some short duration and continuance. Secondly, Though 
there be no direct evidence that the sensations of taste 
and smell, and the greater part of these of touch, have 
the like continuance ; yet, says the author, analogy would 
incline one to believe, that they must resemble the sensa- 
tions of sight and hearing in this particular. Thirdly, 
The continuance of all our sensations being thus estab- 
lished, it follows, that external objects impress vibratory 
motions on the medullary substance of the nerves and 
brain ; because no motion, besides a vibratory one, can 

reside in any part for a moment of time. 

4# 



42 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

This is the chain of proof; in which the first link is 
strong, being confirmed by experience ; the second is 
very weak ; and the third still weaker. For other kinds 
of motion, besides that of vibration, may have some con- 
tinuance, such as rotation, bending or unbending of a 
spring, and perhaps others which we are unacquainted 
with ; nor do we know whether it is motion that is pro- 
duced in the nerves ; it may be pressure, attraction, repul- 
sion, or something we do not know. This, indeed, is the 
common refuge of all hypotheses, that we know no other 
way in which the phenomena may be produced, and 
therefore they must be produced in this way. There is, 
therefore, no proof of vibrations in the infinitesimal par- 
ticles of the brain and nerves. 

It may be thought that the existence of an elastic vi- 
brating ether stands on a firmer foundation, having the 
authority of Sir Isaac Newton. But it ought to be ob- 
served, that although this great man had formed conjec- 
tures about this ether near fifty years before he died, and 
had it in his eye during that long space as a subject of 
inquiry ; yet it does not appear that he ever found any 
convincing proof of its existence, but considered it to the 
last as a question whether there be such an ether or not. 
In the premonition to the reader, prefixed to the second 
edition of his Optics, anno 1717, he expresses himself 
thus with regard to it : — " Lest any one should think that 
I place gravity among the essential properties of bodies, 
I have subjoined one question concerning its cause ; a 
question, I say, for I do not hold it as a thing establish- 
ed." If, therefore, we regard the authority of Sir Isaac 
Newton, we ought to hold the existence of such an ether 
as a matter not established by proof, but to be examined 
into by experiments ; and I have never heard that, since 
his time, any new evidence has been found of its exist- 
ence. 

Vibrations and vibratiuncles of the medullary substance 
of the nerves and brain are assigned by Dr. Hartley to 
account for all our sensations and ideas, and, in a word, 
for all the operations of our minds. Let us consider very 
briefly how far they are sufficient for that purpose. 

He proposes his sentiments with great candor, and 



THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. HARTLEY. 43 

they ought not to be carried beyond what his words ex- 
press. He thinks it a consequence of his theory, that 
matter, if it can be endued with the most simple kinds of 
sensation, might arrive at all that intelligence of which the 
human mind is possessed. He thinks that his theory 
overturns all the arguments that are usually brought for 
the immateriality of the soul, from the subtilty of the in- 
ternal senses, and of the rational faculty ; but he does not 
take upon him to determine whether matter can be endued 
with sensation or no. He even acknowledges, that matter 
and motion, however subtilely divided and reasoned upon, 
yield nothing more than matter and motion still ; and 
therefore he would not be any way interpreted so as to 
oppose the immateriality of the soul. 

It would, therefore, be unreasonable to require that his 
theory of vibrations should, in the proper sense, account 
for our sensations. It would, indeed, be ridiculous in 
any man to pretend, that thought of any kind must neces- 
sarily result from motion, or that vibrations in the nerves 
must necessarily produce thought, any more than the 
vibrations of a pendulum. Dr. Hartley disclaims this 
way of thinking, and therefore it ought not to be imputed 
to him. All that he pretends is, that, in the human con- 
stitution, there is a certain connection between vibrations 
in the medullary substance of the nerves and brain, and 
the thoughts of the mind ; so that the last depend entirely 
upon the first, and every kind of thought in the mind 
arises in consequence of a corresponding vibration, or 
vibratiuncle, in the nerves and brain. Our sensations arise 
from vibrations, and our ideas from vibratiuncles, or min- 
iature vibrations ; and he comprehends, under these two 
words of sensations and ideas, all the operations of the 
mind. 

But how can we expect any proof of the connection 
between vibrations and thought, when the existence of 
such vibrations was never proved. The proof of their 
connection cannot, be stronger than the proof of their ex- 
istence : for, as the author acknowledges that we cannot 
infer the existence of the thoughts from the existence of 
the vibrations, it is no less evident that we cannot infer 
the existence of vibrations from the existence of our 



44 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

thoughts. The existence of both must be known before 
we can know their connection. As to the existence of 
our thoughts, we have the evidence of consciousness ; a 
kind of evidence that never was called in question. But 
as to the existence of vibrations in the medullary sub- 
stance of the nerves and brain, no proof has yet been 
brought. 

All, therefore, we have to expect from this hypothesis 
is, that, in vibrations considered abstractly, there should 
be a variety in kind and degree, which tallies so exactly 
with the varieties of the thoughts they are to account for, 
as may lead us to suspect some connection between the 
one and the other. If the divisions and subdivisions of 
thought be found to run parallel with the divisions and 
subdivisions of vibrations, this would give that kind of 
plausibility to the hypothesis of their connection which 
we commonly expect in a mere hypothesis ; but we do 
not find even this. 

Philosophers have accounted in some degree for our 
various sensations of sound, by the vibrations of elastic 
air. But it is to be observed, first, that we know that 
such vibrations do really exist ; and, secondly, that they 
tally exactly with the most remarkable phenomena of 
sound. We cannot, indeed, show how any vibration 
should produce the sensation of sound. This must be 
resolved into the will of God, or into some cause alto- 
gether unknown. But we know, that as the vibration is 
strong or weak, the sound is loud or soft. We know, 
that as the vibration is quick or slow, the sound is acute 
or grave. We can point out that relation of synchronous 
vibrations which produces harmony or discord, and that 
relation of successive vibrations which produces melody : 
and all this is not conjectured, but proved by a sufficient 
induction. This account of sounds, therefore, is philo- 
sophical ; although, perhaps, there may be many things 
relating to sound that we cannot account for, and of 
which the causes remain latent. The connections de- 
scribed in this branch of philosophy are the work of God, 
and not the fancy of men. 

If any thing similar to this could be shown in account- 
ing for all our sensations by vibrations in the medullary sub- 



THEORY OF VIBRATIONS. HARTLEY. 45 

stance of the nerves and brain, it would deserve a place 
in sound philosophy. But when we are told of vibra- 
tions in a substance, which no man could ever prove to 
have vibrations, or to be capable of them ; when such 
imaginary vibrations are brought to account for all our sen- 
sations, though we can perceive no correspondence, in their 
variety of kind and degree, to the variety of sensations ; 
the connections described in such a system are the crea- 
tures of human imagination, not the work of God. 

The rays of light make an impression upon the optic 
nerves ; but they make none upon the auditory or olfac- 
tory. The vibrations of the air make an impression upon 
the auditory nerves ; but none upon the optic or the 
olfactory. The effluvia of bodies make an impression 
upon the olfactory nerves ; but make none upon the optic 
or auditory. No man has been able to give a shadow of 
reason for this. While this is the case, is it not better to 
confess our ignorance of the nature of those impressions 
made upon the nerves and brain in perception, than to 
flatter our pride with the conceit of knowledge which we 
have not, and to adulterate philosophy with the spurious 
brood of hypotheses ? * 

* Reid appears to have been unacquainled with the works and theory 
of Bonnet. With our author's strictures on the physiological hypothe- 
ses, the reader may compare those of Tetens, in his Versuche, and of 
Stewart, in his Philosophical Essays. — H. 

Haller took pains to refute the theory of vibrations in his Elementa 
Physiol ogia, Vol. IV. Sect. VIII., Art. Conjectural. For some account 
of the writers who have advocated it, see Blakey's History of the Phi- 
losophy of Mind, Vol. III. Chap. XVII. Dr. Priestley published an 
octavo volume, in 1775, containing a portion of Dr. Hartley's great 
work, with this title : Hartley's Theory of the Human Mind, on the 
Principle of the Association of Ideas, toiih Essays on the Subject of it. — 
Ed. 



46 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 



CHAPTER III. 

FALSE CONCLUSIONS DRAWN FROM THE CONNECTION 
BETWEEN PERCEPTION AND IMPRESSIONS MADE ON 
THE ORGANS OF SENSE. 

I. (1.) That the Mind is Material, and Perception 
the Result of Mechanism.] Some philosophers among 
the ancients, as well as among the moderns, imagined 
that man is nothing but a piece of matter so curiously or- 
ganized, that the impressions of external objects produce 
in it sensation, perception, remembrance, and all the other 
operations ice are conscious of. This foolish opinion 
could only take its rise from observing the constant 
connection which the Author of nature has established 
between certain impressions made upon our senses, and 
our perception of the objects by which the impression is 
made ; from which they weakly inferred, that those im- 
pressions were the proper efficient causes of the corre- 
sponding perception. 

But no reasoning is more fallacious than this, that be- 
cause two things are always conjoined, therefore* one 
must be the cause of the other. Day and night have 
been joined in a constant succession since the beginning 
of the world ; but who is so foolish as to conclude from 
this, that day is the cause of night, or night the cause of 
the following day ? There is indeed nothing more ridicu- 
lous than to imagine that any motion or modification of 
• matter should produce thought. 

If one should tell of a telescope so exactly made as to 
have the power of seeing ; of a whispering gallery that 
had the power of hearing ; of a cabinet so nicely framed 
as to have the power of memory ; or of a machine so 
delicate as to feel, pain when it was touched, — such absurd- 
ities are so shocking to common sense, that they would 
not find belief even among savages : yet it is the same 
absurdity to think that the impressions of external objects 
upon the machine of our bodies can be the real efficient 
cause of thought and perception. 



FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 47 

II. (2.) That an Impression is made on the Mind, as 
well as on the Organs of Sense.] Another conclusion 
sometimes drawn by philosophers is, that in perception 
an impression is made upon the mind, as well as upon the 
organ, nerves, and brain. Mr. Locke affirms very posi- 
tively, that the ideas of external objects are produced in 
our minds by impulse, "that being the only way we can 
conceive bodies to operate in." It ought, however, to 
be observed, in justice to Mr. Locke, that he retracted 
this notion in his first letter to the Bishop of Worcester, 
and promised in the next edition of his Essay to have 
that passage rectified ; but either from forgetfulness in the 
author, or negligence in the printer, the passage remains 
in all the subsequent editions I have seen. 

There is no prejudice more natural to man, than to 
conceive of the mind as having some similitude to body 
in its operations. Hence men have been prone to im- 
agine, that, as bodies are put in motion by some impulse 
or impression made upon them by contiguous bodies, so 
the mind is made to think and to perceive by some im- 
pression made upon it, or some impulse given to it by 
contiguous objects. If we have such a notion of the 
mind as. Homer had of his gods, who might be bruised 
or wounded with swords and spears, we may then under- 
stand what is meant by impressions made upon it by a 
body. But if we conceive the mind to be immaterial, of 
which I think we have very strong proofs, we shall find it 
difficult to^ affix a meaning to impressions made upon it. 

Tbereis a figurative meaning of impressions on the 
mind which is well authorized, but this meaning applies 
only to objects that are interesting. To say that an ob- 
ject which I see with perfect indifference makes an im- 
pression upon my mind, is not, as I apprehend, good 
English. If philosophers mean no more than that I see 
the object, why should they invent an improper phrase to 
express what every man knows how to express in plain 
English ? x 

But it is evident, from the manner in which this phrase 
is used by modern philosophers, that they mean not mere- 
ly to express by it my perceiving an object, but to explain 
the manner of perception. They think that the object 



48 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

perceived acts upon the mind, in some way similar to 
that in which one body acts upon another, by making an 
impression upon it. The impression upon the mind is 
conceived to be something wherein the mind is altogether 
passive, and has some effect produced in it by the object. 
But this is a hypothesis which contradicts the common 
sense of mankind, and which ought not to be admitted 
without proof. When I look upon the wall of my room, 
the wall does not act at all, nor is capable of acting ; the 
perceiving it is an act or operation in me. That this is 
the common apprehension of mankind with regard to per- 
ception, is evident from the manner of expressing it in all 
languages. 

The vulgar give themselves no trouble how they per- 
ceive objects. They express what they are conscious of, 
and they express it with propriety ; but philosophers have 
an avidity to know how we perceive objects ; and, con- 
ceiving some similitude between a body that is put in 
motion, and a mind that is made to perceive, they are led 
to think, that, as the body must receive some impulse to 
make it move, so the mind must receive some impulse or 
impression to make it perceive. This analogy seems to 
be confirmed, by observing that we perceive objects only 
when they make some impression upon the organs of 
sense, and upon the nerves and brain ; but it ought to be 
observed, that such is the nature of body, that it cannot 
change its state, but by some force impressed upon it. 
This is not the nature of mind. All that we know about 
it shows it to be in its nature living and active, and to 
have the power of perception in its constitution, but still 
within those limits to which it is confined by the laws of 
nature. 

It appears, therefore, that this phrase of the mind's 
having impressions made upon it by corporeal objects in 
perception, is either a phrase without any distinct mean- 
ing, and contrary to the propriety of the English language, 
or it is grounded upon a hypothesis which is destitute of 
proof. On that account, though we grant that in percep- 
tion there is an impression made upon the organ of sense, 
and upon the nerves and brain, we do not admit that the 
object makes any impression upon the mind. 



FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 49 

III. (3.) That these Impressions leave Images in the 
Brain which are the only Immediate Objects of Percep- 
tion.] There is another conclusion drawn from the im- 
pressions made upon the brain in perception, which I 
conceive to have no solid foundation, though it has been 
adopted very generally by philosophers. It is, that by 
the impressions made on the brain, images are formed of 
the object perceived ; and that the mind, being seated in 
the brain as its chamber of presence, immediately perceives 
those images only, and has no perception of the external 
object but by them. 

Now, with regard to this hypothesis, there are three 
things that deserve to be considered, because the hypothe- 
sis leans upon them ; and if any one of them fail, it must 
fall to the ground. The first is, that the soul has its 
seat, or, as Mr. Locke calls it, " its presence-room," in 
the brain. The second, that there are images formed in 
the brain of all the objects of sense. The third, that 
the mind or soul perceives these images in the brain ; and 
that it perceives not external objects immediately, but only 
by means of their images. 

As to the first point, that the soul has its seat in the 
brain, this, surely, is not so well established as that we 
can safely build other principles upon it. There have 
been various opinions and much disputation about the 
place of spirits ; whether they have a place, and if they 
have, how they occupy that place. After men had 
fought in the dark about these points for ages, the wiser 
part seem to have left off disputing about them, as mat- 
ters beyond the reach of the human faculties. 

As to the second point, that images of all the objects 
of sense are formed in the brain, we may venture to affirm 
that there is no proof nor probability of this, with regard 
to any of the objects of sense ; and that with regard to 
the greater part of them, it is words without any meaning. 

That externa] objects make some impression on the 
organs of sense, and by them on the nerves and brain, is 
granted ; but that those impressions resemble the objects 
they are made by, so as that they may be called images 
of the objects, is most improbable. Every hypothesis 
that has been contrived shows that there can be no such 
5 



50 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

resemblance ; for neither the motions of animal spirits, 
nor the vibrations of elastic chords, or of elastic ether, or 
of the infinitesimal particles of the nerves, can be sup- 
posed to resemble the objects by which they are excited. 

We know that, in vision, an image of the visible object 
is formed in the bottom of the eye by the rays of light. 
But we know also, that this image cannot be conveyed to 
the brain, because the optic nerve, and all the parts that 
surround it, are opaque and impervious to the rays of 
light ; and there is no other organ of sense in which any 
image of the object is formed. 

It is farther to be observed, that, with regard to some 
objects of sense, we may understand what is meant by an 
image of them imprinted on the brain ; but with regard to 
most objects of sense, the phrase is absolutely unintelli- 
gible, and conveys no meaning at all. As to objects of 
sight, I understand what is meant by an image of their 
figure in the brain. But how shall we conceive an image 
of their color, where there is absolute darkness ? And as 
to all other objects of sense, except figure and color, I 
am unable to conceive what is meant by an image of them. 
Let any man say what he means by an image of heat or 
cold, an image of hardness or softness, an image of sound, 
of smell, or taste. The word image, when applied to 
these objects of sense, has absolutely no meaning. Upon 
what a weak foundation, then, does this hypothesis stand, 
when it supposes that images of all the objects of sense 
are imprinted on the brain, being conveyed thither by the 
conduits of the organs and nerves. 

The third point in this hypothesis is, that the mind 
perceives the images in the brain, and external objects 
only by means of them. This is as improbable, as that 
there are such images to be perceived. If our powers of 
perception be not altogether fallacious, the objects we 
perceive are not in our brain, but without us. We are 
so far from perceiving images in the brain, that we do not 
perceive our brain at all ; nor would any man ever have 
known that he had a brain, if anatomy had not discov- 
ered, by dissection, that the brain is a constituent part of 
the human body. « 

To sum up what has been said with regard to the 



FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 51 

organs of perception, and the impressions made upon our 
nerves and brain. It is a law of our nature, established 
by the will of the Supreme Being, that we .perceive no 
external object but by means of the organs given us for 
that purpose. But these organs do not perceive. The 
eye is the organ of sight, but it sees not. A telescope is 
an artificial organ of sight. The eye is a natural organ of 
sight, but it sees as little as the telescope. We know 
how the eye forms a picture of the visible object upon 
the retina ; but how this picture makes us see the object 
we know not ; and if experience had not informed us that 
such a picture is necessary to vision, we should never 
have known it. We can give no reason why the picture 
on the retina should be followed by vision, while a like 
picture on any other part of the body produces nothing 
like vision. 

It is likewise a law of our nature, that we perceive not 
external objects, unless certain impressions be made by 
the object upon the organ, and by means of the organ 
upon the nerves and brain. But of the nature of those 
impressions we are perfectly ignorant ; and though they 
are conjoined with perception by the will of our Maker, 
yet it does not appear that they have any necessary con- 
nection with it in their own nature, far less that they can 
be the proper efficient cause of it. We perceive, because 
God has given us the power of perceiving, and not be- 
cause we have impressions from objects. We perceive 
nothing without those impressions, because our Maker has 
limited and circumscribed our powers of perception, by 
such laws of nature as to his wisdom seemed meet, and 
such as suited our rank in his creation.* 

* In noticing the benefit accruing to psychology from recent physio- 
logical investigations, Mr. Morell observes: — "The phantasms of 
Aristotle, the animal spirits of Descartes, the vibrations of Hartley, 
and all such speculations, are virtually moved out of the road by a 
closer examination of the facts of the case, and thus prevented from 
encumbering the movements of scientific research. In opposition to 
such notions, it has been discovered that the different kinds of nerves 
have specific qualities of their own, and that instead of conveying im- 
pressions, they give rise to certain phenomena simply by the excitement 
of their own properties." 

He adds : — "At the same time, it is of great importance that the 
two sciences should each hold their proper limits, and that the one 



52 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

CHAPTER IV. 

OF PERCEPTION, PROPERLY SO CALLED. 

I. Known by Consciousness and Reflection alone.'] In 
speaking of the impressions made on our organs in per- 

should not be allowed to assume the ground which peculiarly belongs 
to the other. To mark the boundaries of physiology and psychology 
we must simply inquire, what are the phenomena which we learn 
by consciousness, and what those which we learn by outioard observa- 
tion. These two regions lie entirely without each other ; so much so., 
that there is not a single fact known by consciousness, which we 
should ever have learned by external observation, and not a single fact 
known by external observation of which we are ever conscious. A 
sensation, for example, is known simply by consciousness; the mate- 
rial conditions of it, as seen in the organ and the nervous system, 
simply by external observation. No one could ever see a sensation, or 
be conscious of the organic action ; accordingly, the one fact belongs to 
psychology, the other to physiology." 

On this distinction he refers to a passage in Jouffroy, given by us in 
a note to Chap. IV. of the Preliminary Essay, but remarks, "that 
Jouffroy carries his views on this point too far. In the phenomena of 
muscular action, we have the uniting point of the two sciences, the 
link which indissolubly connects the science of mina with that of 
organic matter." 

In this connection he also speaks of phrenology, the real merit of 
which is, as he contends, "that it has directed inquiry to the structure of 
the brain and the nervous system, and succeeded in drawing forth many 
interesting facts, which otherwise would have been to this time en- 
veloped in darkness. Had it been content with taking its place as one 
peculiar branch of human physiology, it would have appeared in a 
light perfectly unobjectionable to the most rigidly philosophical minds; 
but its ambition has, to a great extent, been its bane." 

He then shows, at some length, that it can never serve as the basis of 
a new system of intellectual philosophy. A brief extract must suffice : 
— "I will suppose, for a moment, that we knew nothing whatever 
reflectively of our own mental operations ; that the study of the human 
mind had not yet been commenced ; that none of its phenomena had 
been classified ; and that we were to begin our investigation of them 
upon the phrenological system, some notion of which had been pre- 
viously communicated to us : we might in this case proceed with our 
operations with the greatest ardor, and examine skull after skull for a 
century ; but this would not give us the least notion of any -peculiar 
mental faculty, or aid us in the smallest degree in classifying mental phe- 
nomena. We could never know that the organs of the reasoning pow- 
ers were in front, and those of the moral feelings upon the top of the 
head, unless we had first made those powers and feelings independently 
the objects of our examination. The whole march of phrenology goes 
upon the supposition, that there is a system of intellectual philosophy 
already in the mind, and its whole aim is to show where the seat, 



OF PERCEPTION PROPER. 53 

ception, we build upon facts borrowed from anatomy and 
physiology, for which we have the testimony of our senses. 
But being now to speak of perception itself, which is 
solely an act of the mind, we must appeal to another 
authority. The operations of our minds are known, not 
by sense, but by consciousness, the authority of which is 
as certain and as irresistible as that of sense.* 

materially speaking, of the faculties we have already observed, really 
is to be found." 

"The Phrenological Journal admits," he adds in a note to his second 
edition, "that we must know our mental phenomena reflectively, before 
we can allocate them, — but still persists in calling cerebral observation 
a method of studying psychology. I confess myself unable to see what 
psychological truth it unfolds, that is not clear without it. Does it re- 
veal a mental fact? Not one. These are all facts of consciousness. 
Does it give us a classification ? J\ T o. ' We must know,' (I quote 
the critic,) ' from our consciousness, the distinction between thoughts 
and feelings, before we can trace their connection with particular parts 
of the brain.' Does it define a single faculty or feeling, or give us any 
clew to the class of phenomena to which it should belong? No. The 
decision as to the class of phenomena to which any mental fact belongs 
is left to the mind's reflective judgment, which would be quite unal- 
tered wherever the organ of it might be found." — Historical and Crit- 
ical View of the Speculative Philosophy of Europe in the Nineteenth 
Century, Chap. IV. Sect. I. 

For further information respecting the physiological conditions of 
perception and other mental phenomena, see a small tract by Dr. Bar- 
low, On the Connection between Physiology and Intellectual Science. 
Mtiller's Elements, already referred to. The American edition of the 
English translation omits many passages interesting to the psychologist. 
Tissot, Anthropologic. Virey, Physiologie dans ses Rapports avec la 
Philosophie. Pritchard's Review of the Doctrine of a Vital Principle. 
Green's Vital Dynamics. Lawrence's Introduction to Comparative 
Anatomy and Physiology. Maine de Biran, JVouvelles Considerations 
sur les Rapports du Physique et du Moral de VHomnie. Jouffroy, JVou- 
xeaux Melanges Philosophiques , Art. De la Ugitivieti. de la Distinction 
de la Psychologie et de la Physiologie. Comte, Philosophie Positive, 
Vol. III. LeconXLV. — Ed. 

* It is more so. There is no skepticism possible touching the facts of 
consciousness in themselves. We cannot doubt that the phenomena of 
consciousness are real, in so far as we are conscious of them. I cannot 
doubt, for example, that I am actually conscious of a certain feeling of 
fragrance, and of certain perceptions of color, figure, &c, when I see 
and smell a rose. Of the reality of these, as experienced, I cannot 
doubt, because they are facts of consciousness ; and of consciousness I 
cannot doubt, because such doubt, being itself an act of consciousness, 
would contradict, and consequently annihilate, itself. But of all be- 
yond the mere phenomena of which we are conscious, we may — 
without fear of self-contradiction at least — doubt. I may, for instance, 
doubt whether the rose I see and smell has any existence, beyond a 
phenomenal existence in my consciousness. I cannot doubt that I am 
conscious of it as something different from self, but whether it have, 
5* 



54 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

In order, however, to our having a distinct notion of 
any of the operations of our own minds, it is not enough 
that we be conscious of them, for all men have this con- 
sciousness : it is farther necessary that we attend to them 
while they are exerted, and reflect upon them with care, 
while they are recent and fresh in our memory. It is 
necessary that, by employing ourselves frequently in this 
way, we get the habit of this attention and reflection ; and 
therefore, for the proof of facts which I shall have occa- 
sion to mention upon this subject, I can only appeal to 
the reader's own thoughts, whether such facts are not 
agreeable to what he is conscious of in his own mind. 

II. Three Things implied in every Act of Percep- 
tion.] If, therefore, we attend to that act of our mind 
which we call the perception of an external object of 
sense, we shall find in it these three things. First, some 
conception or notion of the object perceived. Secondly, 
a strong and irresistible conviction and belief of its pres- 
ent existence. And, thirdly, that this conviction and 
belief are immediate, and not the effect of reasoning. 

First, It is impossible to perceive an object without 
having some notion or conception of that which we per- 
ceive. We may indeed conceive an object which we do 
not perceive ; but when we perceive the object, we must 
have some conception of it at the same time ; and we 
have commonly a more clear and steady notion of the 
object while we perceive it, than we have from memory 
or imagination when it is not perceived. Yet, even in 
perception, the notion which our senses give of the object 
may be more or less clear, more or less distinct, in all 
possible degrees. 

Thus we see more distinctly an object at a small than 
at a great distance. An object at a great distance is 
seen more distinctly in a clear than in a foggy day. An 



indeed, any reality beyond my mind, — whether the not-self be not in 
truth only self, — that I may philosophically question. In like manner, 
I am conscious of the memory of a certain past event. Of the contents 
of this memory, as a phenomenon given by consciousness, skepticism is 
impossible. But I may by possibility demur to the reality of all beyond 
these contents, and the sphere of present consciousness. — H. 



OF PERCEPTION PROPER. 55 

object seen indistinctly with the naked eye, on account of 
its smallness, may be seen distinctly with a microscope. 
The objects in this room will be seen by a person in the 
room less and less distinctly as the light of the day fails ; 
they pass through all the various degrees of distinctness 
according to the degrees of the light, and at last, in total 
darkness, they are not seen at all. What has been said 
of the objects of sight is so easily applied to the objects 
of the other senses, that the application may be left to 
the reader. 

In a matter so obvious to every person capable of re- 
flection, it is necessary only farther to observe, that the 
notion which we get of an object, merely by our external 
sense, ought not to be confounded with that more scien- 
tific notion which a man, come to the years of under- 
standing, may have of the same object, by attending to its 
various attributes, or to its various parts, and their rela- 
tion to each other and to the whole. Thus the notion 
which a child has of a jack for roasting meat will be 
acknowledged to be very different from that of a man 
who understands its construction, and perceives the rela- 
tion of the parts to one another and to the whole. The 
child sees the jack and every part of it as well as the 
man : the child, therefore, has all the notion of it which 
sight gives ; whatever there is more in the notion which 
the man forms of it must be derived from other powers 
of the mind, which may afterwards be explained. This 
observation is made here only that we may not confound 
the operations of different powers of the mind, which, by 
being always conjoined after w T e grow up to understand- 
ing, are apt to pass for one and the same. 

Secondly, In perception we not only have a notion 
more or less distinct of the object perceived, but also an 
irresistible conviction and belief of its existence. This is 
always the case when we are certain that we perceive it. 
There may be a perception so faint and indistinct, as to 
leave us in doubt whether we perceive the object or not. 
Thus, when a star begins to twinkle as the light of the 
sun withdraws, one may, for a short time, think he sees 
it, without being certain, until the perception acquires 
some strength and steadiness. When a ship just begins 



56 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

to appear in the utmost verge of the horizon, we may at 
first be dubious whether we perceive it or not : but when 
the perception is in any degree clear and steady, there 
remains no doubt of its reality ; and when the reality of 
the perception is ascertained, the existence of the object 
perceived can no longer be doubted. 

By the laws of all nations, in the most solemn judicial 
trials, wherein men's fortunes and lives are at stake, the 
sentence passes according to the testimony of eye or 
ear witnesses of good credit. An upright judge will 
give a fair hearing to every objection that can be made to 
the integrity of a witness, and allow it to be possible that 
he may be corrupted ; but no judge will ever suppose 
that witnesses may be imposed upon by trusting to their 
eyes and ears : and if a skeptical counsel should plead 
against the testimony of the witnesses, that they had no 
other evidence for what they declared but the testimony 
of their eyes and ears, and that we ought not to put so 
much faith in our senses as to deprive men of life or 
fortune upon their testimony, surely no upright judge 
would admit a plea of this kind. I believe no counsel, 
however skeptical, ever dared to offer such an argument ; 
and, if it was offered, it would be rejected with disdain. 

Can any stronger proof be given, that it is the univer- 
sal judgment of mankind, that the evidence of sense is a 
kind of evidence which we may securely rest upon, in 
the most momentous concerns of mankind, — that it is a 
kind of evidence against which we ought not to admit any 
reasoning, and therefore, that to reason either for or 
against it, is an insult to common sense ? 

The whole conduct of mankind, in the daily occur- 
rences of life, as well as the solemn procedure of judica- 
tories in the trial of causes civil and criminal, demon- 
strates this. I know of only two exceptions that may 
be offered against this being the universal belief of man- 
kind. 

The first exception is that of some lunatics, who have 
been persuaded of things that seem to contradict the clear 
testimony of their senses. It is said there have been 
lunatics and hypochondriacal persons, who seriously be- 
lieved themselves to be made of glass ; and, in conse- 



OF PERCEPTION PROPER. 57 

quence of this, lived in continual terror of having their 
brittle frame shivered into pieces. 

All I have to say to this is, that our minds, in our 
present state, are, as well as our bodies, liable to strange 
disorders ; and as we do not judge of the natural consti- 
tution of the body from the disorders or diseases to 
which it is subject from accidents, so neither ought we to 
judge of the natural powers of the mind from its disorders, 
but from its sound state. It is natural to man, and com- 
mon to the species, to have two hands and two feet ; yet 
I have seen a man, and a very ingenious one, who was 
born without either hands or feet. It is natural to man to 
have faculties superior to those of brutes ; yet we see 
some individuals, whose faculties are not equal to those of 
many brutes ; and the wisest man may, by various acci- 
dents, be reduced to this state. General rules that re- 
gard those whose intellects are sound, are not overthrown 
by instances of men whose intellects are hurt by any con- 
stitutional or accidental disorder. 

The other exception that may be made to the principle 
we have laid down is that of some philosophers, who have 
maintained that the testimony of sense is fallacious, and 
therefore ought never to be trusted. Perhaps it might be 
a sufficient answer to this to say, that there is nothing so 
absurd which some philosophers have not maintained. It 
is one thing to profess a doctrine of this kind, another 
seriously to believe it, and to be governed by it in the 
conduct of life. It is evident, that a man who did not 
believe his senses could not keep out of harm's way an 
hour of his life ; yet, in all the history of philosophy, we 
never read of any skeptic that ever stepped into fire or 
water because he did not believe his senses, or that 
showed, in the conduct of life, less trust in his senses 
than other men have.* This gives us just ground to ap- 
prehend that philosophy was never able to conquer that 
natural belief which men have in their senses ; and that 
all their subtile reasonings against this belief were never 
able to persuade themselves. 

* All this we read, however, in Laertius, of Pyrrho ; and on the 
authority of Antigonus Carystius, the great skeptic's contemporary. 
Whether we are to believe the narrative is another qnestion. — H. 



58 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

It appears, therefore, that the clear and distinct testi- 
mony of our senses carries irresistible conviction along 
with it, to every man in his right judgment. 

I observed, thirdly, that this conviction is not only 
irresistible, but it is immediate ; that is, it is not by a 
train of reasoning and argumentation that we come to be 
convinced of the existence of what we perceive ; we ask 
no argument for the existence of the object, but that we 
perceive it ; perception commands our belief upon its 
own authority, and disdains to rest its authority upon any 
reasoning whatsoever. 

The conviction of a truth may be irresistible, and yet 
not immediate. Thus, my conviction that the three 
angles of every plain triangle are equal to two right 
angles, is irresistible, but it is not immediate : I am con- 
vinced of it by demonstrative reasoning. There are 
other truths in mathematics of which we have not only an 
irresistible, but an immediate conviction. Such are the 
axioms. Our belief of the axioms in mathematics is not 
grounded upon argument, — arguments are grounded upon 
them ; but their evidence is discerned immediately by the 
human understanding. 

It is, no doubt, one thing to have an immediate convic- 
tion of a self-evident axiom ; it is another thing to have 
an immediate conviction of the existence of what we see : 
but the conviction is equally immediate and equally irre- 
sistible in both cases. No man thinks of seeking a reason 
to believe what he sees; and before we are capable of 
reasoning, we put no less confidence in our senses than 
after. The rudest savage is as fully convinced of what 
he sees, and hears, and feels, as the most expert logician. 
The constitution of our understanding determines us to 
hold the truth of a mathematical axiom as a first principle, 
from which other truths may be deduced, but it is deduced 
from none ; and the constitution of our power of percep- 
tion determines us to hold the existence of what we dis- 
tinctly perceive as a first principle, from which other 
truths may be deduced, but it is deduced from none. 

What has been said of the irresistible and immediate 
belief of the existence of objects distinctly perceived, I 
mean only to affirm with regard to persons so far advanced 



OF PERCEPTION PROPER. 59 

in understanding as to distinguish objects of mere imagi- 
nation from things which have a real existence. Every 
man knows that he may have a notion of Don Quixote or 
of Garagantua, without any belief that such persons ever 
existed ; and that of Julius Csesar and of Oliver Crom- 
well, he has not only a notion, but a belief that they did 
really exist. But whether children, from the time that 
they begin to use their senses, make a distinction between 
things which are only conceived or imagined, and things 
which really exist, may be doubted. Until we are able 
to make this distinction, we cannot properly be said to 
believe or to disbelieve the existence of any thing. The 
belief of the existence of any thing seems to suppose a 
notion of existence ; a notion too abstract, perhaps, to 
enter into the mind of an infant. I speak of the power 
of perception in those that are adult, and of a sound 
mind, who believe that there are some things which do 
really exist ; and that there are many things conceived 
by themselves, and by others, which have no existence. 
That such persons do invariably ascribe existence to 
every thing which they distinctly perceive, without seek- 
ing reasons or arguments for doing so, is perfectly evident 
from the whole tenor of human life. 

III. How ice are able to perceive by Means of the 
Senses is beyond our Comprehension. ] The account I 
have given of our perception of external objects is in- 
tended as a faithful delineation of what every man, come 
to years of understanding, and capable of giving attention 
to what passesin his own mind, may feel in himself. In 
ivhat manner the notion of external objects, and the im- 
mediate belief of their existence, is produced by means 
of our senses, I am not able to show, and I do not pre- 
tend to show. If the power of perceiving external ob- 
jects in certain circumstances be a part of the original 
constitution of the human mind, all attempts to account 
for it will be vain : no other account can be given of the 
constitution of things, but the will of Him that made 
them. As we can give no reason why matter is extended 
and inert, why the mind thinks, and is conscious of its 
thoughts, but the will of Him who made both, so, I 



60 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

suspect, we can give no other reason why, in certain cir- 
cumstances, we perceive external objects, and in others 
do not. 

The Supreme Being intended that we should have 
such knowledge of the material objects that surround us 
as is necessary in order to our supplying the wants of 
nature, and avoiding the dangers to which we are con- 
stantly exposed ; and he has admirably fitted our powers 
of perception to this purpose. If the intelligence we 
have of external objects were to be got by reasoning only, 
the greatest part of men would be destitute of it ; for the 
greatest part of men hardly ever learn to reason ; and in 
infancy and childhood no man can reason : therefore, as 
this intelligence of the objects that surround us, and from 
which we may receive so much benefit or harm, is equally 
necessary to children and to men, to the ignorant and to 
the learned, God in his wisdom conveys it to us in a way 
that puts all upon a level. The information of the senses 
is as perfect, and gives as full conviction, to the most igno- 
rant as to the most learned. 



CHAPTER V. 

THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. 1 

I. Plato's Theory.] An object placed at a proper dis- 
tance, and in a good light, while the eyes are shut, is not 
perceived at all ; but no sooner do we open our eyes 
upon it, than we have, as it were by inspiration, a certain 
knowledge of its existence, of its color, figure, and dis- 
tance. This is a fact which every one knows. The 
vulgar are satisfied with knowing the fact, and give them- 
selves no trouble about the cause of it ; but a philosopher 
is impatient to know how this event is produced, to ac- 
count for it, or assign its cause. 

This avidity to know the causes of things is the parent 
of all philosophy, true and false. Men of speculation 
place a great part of their happiness in such knowledge. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. PLATO. 61 

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, has always been 
a sentiment of human nature. 

Many philosophers, ancient and modern, have employ- 
ed their invention to discover how we are made to per- 
ceive external objects by our senses: and there appears to 
be a very great uniformity in their sentiments in the main, 
notwithstanding their variations in particular points.* 

Plato illustrates our manner of perceiving the objects of 
sense in this manner. He supposes a dark subterraneous 
cave, in which men lie bound in such a manner that they 
can direct their eyes only to one part of the cave: far be- 
hind, there is a light, some rays of which come over a 
wall to that part of the cave which is before the eyes of 
our prisoners. A number of persons, variously employ- 
ed, pass between them and the light, whose shadows are 
seen by the prisoners, but not the persons themselves. 

In this manner that philosopher conceived that, by 
our senses, we perceive the shadows of things only, and 
not things themselves. He seems to have borrowed his 
notions on this subject from the Pythagoreans, and they 
very probably from Pythagoras himself. If we make al- 
lowance for Plato's allegorical genius, his sentiments on 
this subject correspond very well with those of his scholar 
Aristotle, and of the Peripatetics. The shadows of Plato 
may very well represent the species and phantasms of the 
Peripatetic school, and the ideas and impressions of mod- 
ern philosophers, f 



* It is not easy to conceive by what principle the order of the history 
of opinions touching perception, as given by Reid, is determined. It is 
not chronological, and it is not systematic. Of these theories, there is a 
very able survey, by M. Royer Collard, among the fragments of his lec- 
tures in the third volume of Jouffroy's (Euvres de Reid. That distin- 
guished philosopher has, however, placed too great a reliance upon the 
accuracy of Reid. — H. 

Reid's historico-critical account of the theories of perception is mate- 
rially abridged in this edition, and the order in one or two cases is 
changed, for the reason intimated above. — Ed. 

t This interpretation of the meaning of Plato's comparison of the cave 
exhibits a curious mistake, in which Reid is followed by Mr. Stewart 
and many others, and which, it is remarkable, has never yet been de- 
tected. In the similitude in question (which will be found in the sev- 
enth book of the Republic), Plato is supposed to intend an illustration 
of the mode in which the shadows or vicarious images of external 
things are admitted into the mind, — to typify, in short, an hypothesis of 

6 



62 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

Two thousand years after Plato, Mr. Locke, who stud- 
ied the operations of the human mind so much, and with 
so great success, represents our manner of perceiving ex- 
ternal objects by a similitude very much resembling that 
of the cave. " Methinks," says he, " 'he understanding 
is not much unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with 
only some little opening left to let in external visible re- 
semblances or ideas of things without. Would the pic- 
tures coming into such a dark room but stay there, and 
lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very 

sensitive perception. On this supposition, the identity of the Platonic, 
Pythagorean, and Peripatetic theories of this process is inferred. Noth- 
ing can, however, be more groundless than the supposition; nothing 
more erroneous than the inference. By his cave, images, and shadows, 
Plato meant simply to illustrate the grand principle of his philosophy, 
that the sensible or ectypal world (phenomenal, transitory, yiyvopevov, 
ov Kcu fxrj ov) stands to the noetic or archetypal (substantial, permanent, 
ovtoos ov) in the same relation of comparative unreality in which the 
shadows of the images of sensible existences themselves stand to the 
things of which they are the dim and distant adumbrations. And as the 
comparison is misunderstood, so nothing can be conceived more ad- 
verse to the doctrine of Plato than the theory it is supposed to eluci- 
date. It is here sufficient to state, that the etScoXa, the Adyot yvcocrriKol, 
the forms representative of external things, and corresponding to the 
species sensiles express^ of the schoolmen, were not held by the Plato- 
nists to be derived from without. Prior to the act of perception, they have 
a latent but real existence in the soul ; and, by the impassive energy 
of the mind itself, are elicited into consciousness, on occasion of the 
impression (k'lvtjo-is, rrados, ep,(pacns) made on the external organ, and 
of the vital form (^cotlkov el8os), in consequence thereof, sublimated in 
the animal life. 

I cannot now do more than indicate the contrast of this doctrine to 
the Peripatetic (I do not say, Jjristotelia.n) theory, and its approximation 
to the Cartesian and Leibnitzian hypotheses ; which, however, both at- 
tempt to explain, what the Platonic did not, — how the mind (ex hy- 
pothesi, above all physical influence) is determined, on the presence (of 
the unknown reality within the sphere of sense, to call into conscious- 
ness the representation through which that reality is made known to us. 
I may add, that not merely the Platonists, but some of the older Peripa- 
tetics held that the soul virtually contained within itself representative 
forms, which were only excited by the external reality ; as Theophras- 
tus and Themistius, to say nothing of the Platonizing Porphyry, Simpli- 
cius, and Ammonius Hermioe ; and the same opinion, adopted probably 
from the latter, by his pupil, the Arabian Adelandus, subsequently be- 
came even the common doctrine of the Moorish Aristotelians. 

I shall afterwards have occasion to notice that Bacon has also wrested 
Plato's similitude of the cave from its genuine signification. — H. 

On the subject of Plato's doctrines generally, and especially in re- 
spect to sensible perception, and the similitude of the cave, compare 
Van Heusde, lnitia Philosophic Platonica. — Ed, 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. PERIPATETICS. 63 

much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference 
to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them." 

Plato's subterranean cave, and Mr. Locke's dark clos- 
et, may be applied with ease to all the systems of percep- 
tion that have been invented: for they all suppose that we 
perceive not external objects immediately, and that the 
immediate objects of perception are only certain shadows 
of the external objects. Those shadows or images, which 
w T e immediately perceive, were by the ancients called 
species, forms, phantasms. Since the time of Descartes, 
they have commonly been called ideas, and by Mr. Hume 
impressions. But all philosophers, from Plato to Mr. 
Hume, agree in this, that we do not perceive external 
objects immediately, and that the immediate object of 
perception must be some image present to the mind. So 
far there appears a unanimity rarely to be found among 
philosophers on such abstruse points. 

II. Theory of Aristo tie and the Peripatetics.'] Aris- 
totle taught, that all the objects of our thought enter at 
first by the senses; and, since the sense cannot receive 
external material objects themselves, it receives their spe- 
cies; that is, their images or forms, without the matter; 
as wax receives the form of the seal, without any of the 
matter of it. These images or forms, impressed upon the 
senses, are called sensible species, and are the objects 
only of the sensitive part of the mind. But, by various 
internal powers, they are retained, refined, and spirit- 
ualized, so as to become objects of memory and im- 
agination, and, at last, of pure intellection. When 
they are objects of memory and of imagination, they 
get the name of phantasms. When, by farther refinement, 
and being stripped of their particularities, they become 
objects of science, they are called intelligible species. So 
that every immediate object, whether of sense, of mem- 
ory, of imagination, or of reasoning, must be some phan- 
tasm or species in the mind itself.* 

* This is a tolerable account of the doctrine vulgarly attributed to 
Aristotle. — H. 

It is a common error to refer to Aristotle himself the refinements and 



64 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

Aristotle seems to have thought that the soul consists 
of two parts, or, rather, that we have two souls, the ani- 

subtilties introduced into his system by his followers. For a full and 
authentic view of the psychology of Aristotle, see the French transla- 
tions of De Jinima and of Parva Natural ia, with copious prefaces and 
notes, by J. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire. The translator gives the fol- 
lowing summary of Aristotle's doctrine respecting sensation and per- 
ception : — 

"Aristotle considers each of the senses, in the following order; — 
sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Omitting all details, we shall 
limit ourselves here to giving a general idea of his theory of sensibility. 
" Sensibility, according to Aristotle, is a simple power, — a faculty 
which can always act, though it does not always act. Sensation is not, 
therefore, merely an alteration, as many have said : it is an act which 
completes the being who experiences it; in a particular act of sensation 
he develops a faculty that is in him, he realizes what he can do. 
Thus, in sensation, a being does not suffer ; he acts. Moreover, as in 
sensation there is always and necessarily an object felt, it must be ad- 
mitted that the sensible being is in power very nearly as in reality the 
being felt. Before feeling, it is unlike the being which it feels ; after hav- 
ing felt, it is, in some sense, like it. Sensibility is, therefore, that which 
receives the form of sensible objects, but not the matter ; like wax which 
receives the impression of the ring, but not the iron or gold of which the 
ring is made. The sensibility does not become, strictly speaking, each 
of the objects which act upon it; but it becomes something analogous; 
and this something can be comprehended by the reason alone ; that is 
to say, it is not a material phenomenon. The object is not truly sensi- 
ble as long as it is not felt ; sensibility, on its side, is a mere power as 
long as it feels not. The act of the object felt and the act of the sen- 
sibility are therefore blended together, and indissoluble. Hence a cer- 
tain relation, a kind of harmony, is necessary between the sense and the 
object. A sensation, if too violent, is not perceived. Sensibility is, to 
speak properly, a mean ; on this side or beyond a certain point, it no 
longer acts. 

" But man has not only the faculty of feeling; he also has the faculty 
of feeling that he feels. He feels that he sees; he feels that he hears. 
Is it by the sight that he feels that he sees, or is it by some other sense ? 
It is by the sight ; or, to speak more correctly, the perceptions of sight, 
like those of all the other senses, meet in a centre, in a single point, 
which serves as a common limit to them all, and which compares and 
measures them in an instant indivisible as is this point itself, indivisible 
as is the principle which perceives and feels. 

" Such is Aristotle's theory of sensibility. Not the least trace is 
found there, as all will see, of those sensible species, of those images, of 
those representative imaa-es, as Reid calls them, without which, it has 
often been repeated, Aristotle could not explain perception. I do not 
deny that before him some philosophers, Democritus and others, had 
supposed the intervention of images proceeding from objects to the 
mind, by means of which the mind is enabled to comprehend the ob- 
jects. Neither do I deny that after Aristotle, his commentators, and 
the schoolmen especially, have attributed to him, in trying to compre- 
hend him, the views which Reid has attacked and overthrown. But I 
think myself authorized to affirm that these views were never held by 
Aristotle himself. He employed a metaphor to explain perception, and 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. PERIPATETICS. 65 

mal and the rational ; or, as he calls them, the soul and 
the intellect.* To the first belong the senses, memory, 
and imagination ; to the last, judgment, opinion, belief, 
and reasoning. The first we have in common with brute 
animals ; the last is peculiar to man. The animal soul 
he held to be a certain form of the body, which is in- 
separable from it, and perishes at death. To this soul 
the senses belong : and be defines a sense to be that 
which is capable of receiving the sensible forms, or 

the use of metaphor (which he had formalty proscribed and disowned 
in philosophy) has been unlucky in this case, as it has caused his real 
thought to be misunderstood. But he went no farther. As a perfectly 
faithful observer, he has stated the facts ; he has invented nothing. 
Before the great mystery of perception he paused with a prudence not 
exceeded by that of the Scotch school. Reid contents himself, after 
having refuted all previous theories, with protesting against them with- 
out pretending to substitute another more complete in their place, de- 
claring that perception, with all its ascertained characteristics, is a fact 
irreducible to any other. With less profoundness and delicacy of 
analysis, Aristotle has said precisely the same thing: — ' We experi- 
ence in sensation a modification which reason alone can apprehend.' 
Aristotle, it is true, has gone farther than Reid by adding, that, in per- 
ception, the being which perceives becomes in some manner conformed 
to the being perceived. This remark is perhaps more ingenious than 
solid ; but it is not the fault of Aristotle, if afterwards consequences 
were drawn from his theories which he never attributed to them, and 
which even contradict them. He no more held the doctrine of idea- 
images, of representative ideas, than he admitted that confusion of sen- 
sation and thought which has so often been ascribed to him, and which 
he refutes again and again in his treatise On the Hold. Reid has cer- 
tainly rendered a real service to science by disembarrassing it of an 
hypothesis, the source of so many errors, and entertained by some of 
the greatest thinkers, — by Descartes among the rest. But this is an 
error into which Aristotle never fell ; his theories do not contain it : 
error may be there, but not that of which he is accused by Reid." 
Traite de VJlme, Preface, p. xxii. The same topics are treated more 
fully in the editor's Plan General du Traite de VJlme, p. 35, et seq. ; 
and in the Treatise itself, Liv. II. Chap. V.-XII., and Liv. III. Chap. 
I. ,11— Ed. 

* This is not correct. Instead of two, the animal and rational, Aris- 
totle gave to the soul three generic functions, the vegetable, the animal 
or sensual, and the rational ; but whether he supposes these to consti- 
tute three concentric potences, three separate parts, or three distinct 
souls, has divided his disciples. He also defines the soul in general, and 
not, as Reid supposes, the mere " animal soul," to be the form or 
eWeXe^eta of the body. {De Anima, Lib. II. cap. 2.) Intellect (vovs) 
he, however, thought was inorganic ; but there is some ground for be- 
lieving that he did not yiew this as personal, but harboured an opinion 
which, under various modifications, many of his followers also held, 
that the active intellect was common to all men, immortal and divine. 
— H. 

6* 



66 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

species of objects, without any of the matter of them ; 
as wax receives the form of the seal without any of the 
matter of it. The forms of sound, of color, of taste, 
and of other sensible qualities, are in like manner received 
by the senses. 

It seems to be a necessary consequence of Aristotle's 
doctrine, that bodies are constantly sending forth, in all 
directions, as many different kinds of forms without mat- 
ter as they have different sensible qualities ; for the forms 
of color must enter by the eye, the forms of sound by the 
ear, and so of the other senses. This accordingly was 
maintained by the followers of Aristotle, though not, as 
far as I know, expressly mentioned by himself. They 
disputed concerning the nature of those forms, or species, 
whether they were real beings or nonentities ; and some 
held them to be of an intermediate nature between the 
two.* The whole doctrine of the Peripatetics and 
schoolmen concerning forms, substantial and accidental, 
and concerning the transmission of sensible species from 
objects of sense to the mind, if it be at all intelligible, is 
so far above my comprehension, that I should perhaps do 
it injustice by entering into it more minutely. Male- 
branche, in his Recherche de let Verite, has employed a 
chapter to show, that material objects do not send forth 
sensible species of their several sensible qualities. 

III. Bescartes's Theory.'] The great revolution 
which Descartes produced in philosophy was the effect 
of a superiority of genius, aided by the circumstances of 
the times. f Men had, for more than a thousand years, 
looked up to Aristotle as an oracle in philosophy. His 
authority was the test of truth. The small remains of the 
Platonic system were confined to a few mystics, whose 

* The question in the schools, among those who admitted species, 
was not whether species, in general, were real beings or nonentities, 
(which would have been, did they exist or not,) but whether sensible 
species were material, immaterial, or of a nature between body and 
spirit, — a problem, it must be allowed, sufficiently futile, but not, like 
the other, self-contradictory. — H. 

t Ren6 Descartes was born at La Haye, in Touraine, March 31, 
1596. Much of his life was passed in Holland. He died February 14, 
1650, at Stockholm, whither he had repaired at the invitation of Chris- 
tina, queen of Sweden. — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. DESCARTES. 67 

principles and manner of life drew little attention. The 
feeble attempts of Ramus, and of some others, to make 
improvements in the system, had little effect. The 
Peripatetic doctrines were so interwoven with the whole 
system of scholastic theology, that to dissent from Aris- 
totle was to alarm the Church. The most useful and in- 
telligible parts, even of Aristotle's writings, were neglect- 
ed, and philosophy was become an art of speaking learn- 
edly, and disputing subtilely, without producing any in- 
vention of use in human life. It was fruitful of words, 
but barren of works, and admirably contrived for drawing 
a veil over human ignorance, and putting a stop to the 
progress of knowledge, by filling men with a conceit that 
they knew every thing. It was very fruitful, also, in con- 
troversies ; but for the most part they were controversies 
about words, or about things of no moment, or things 
above the reach of the human faculties : and the issue of 
them was what might be expected, that the contending 
parties fought, without gaining or losing an inch of ground, 
till they were weary of the dispute, or their attention was 
called off to some other subject.* 

Such was the philosophy of the schools of Europe, 
during many ages of darkness and barbarism that succeed- 
ed the decline of the Roman empire ; so that there was 
great need of a reformation in philosophy as well as in 
religion. The light began to dawn at last ; a spirit of 
inquiry sprang up, and men got the courage to doubt of 
the dogmas of Aristotle, as well as of the decrees of 
popes. The most important step in the reformation of 
religion was to destroy the claim of infallibility, which 
hindered men from using their judgment in matters of re- 
ligion : and the most important step in the reformation of 
philosophy was to destroy the authority of which Aris- 
totle had so long had peaceable possession. The last 
had been attempted by Lord Bacon and others, with no 
less zeal than the first by Luther and Calvin. 

Descartes knew well the defects of the prevailing 

* This is the vulgar opinion in regard to the scholastic philosophy. 
The few are, however, now aware -that the human mind, though par- 
tially, was never more powerfully developed than during the Middle 
Ages. — H. 



68 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

system, which had begun to lose its authority. His 
genius enabled him, and his spirit prompted him, to at- 
tempt a new one. He had applied much to the mathe- 
matical sciences, and had made considerable improve- 
ment in them. He wished" to introduce that perspicuity 
and evidence into other branches of philosophy which he 
found in them. Being sensible how apt we are to be led 
astray by prejudices of education, he thought the only 
way to avoid error was, to resolve to doubt of every 
thing, — to hold every thing to be uncertain, even those 
things which he had been taught to hold as most certain, 
until he had such clear and cogent evidence as compelled 
his assent. 

In this state of universal doubt, that which first appeared 
to him to be clear and certain was his own existence. 
Of this he was certain^ because he was conscious that he 
thought, that he reasoned, and that he doubted. He used 
this argument, therefore, to prove his own existence, — 
Cogito, ergo sum. This he conceived to be the first of 
all truths, the foundation-stone upon which the whole 
fabric of human knowledge is built, and on which it must 
rest. And as Archimedes thought that, if he had one 
fixed point to rest his engines upon, he could move the 
earth ; so Descartes, charmed with the discovery of one 
certain principle, by which he emerged from the state of 
universal doubt, believed that this principle alone would 
be a sufficient foundation on which he might build the 
whole system of science. He seems, therefore, to have 
taken no great trouble to examine whether there might 
not be other first principles, which, on account of their 
own light and evidence, ought to be admitted by every 
man of sound judgment. The love of simplicity, so 
natural to the mind of man, led him to apply the whole 
force of his mind to raise the fabric of knowledge upon 
this one principle, rather than seek a broader foundation. 

Accordingly, he does not admit the evidence of sense 
to be a first principle, as he does that of consciousness. 
The arguments of the ancient skeptics here occurred to 
him ; that our senses often deceive us, and therefore 
ought never to be trusted on their own authority ; that, in 
sleep, we often seem to see and hear things which we are 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. DESCARTES. 69 

convinced to have had no existence. But that which 
chiefly led Descartes to think that he ought not to trust 
to his senses, without proof of their veracity, was, that he 
took it for granted, as all philosophers had done before 
him, that he did not perceive external objects themselves, 
but certain images of them in his own mind, called ideas. 
He was certain, by consciousness, that he had the ideas 
of sun and moon, earth and sea ; but how could he be 
assured that there really existed external objects like to 
these ideas ? 

Hitherto he was uncertain of every thing but of his 
own existence, and the existence of the operations and 
ideas of his own mind. Some of his disciples, it is said, 
remained at this stage of his system, and got the name of 
Egoists.* They could not find evidence in the subse- 
quent stages of his progress. But Descartes resolved 
not to stop here ; he endeavoured to prove, by a new ar- 
gument, drawn from his idea of a Deity, the existence of 
an infinitely perfect Being, who made him and all his 
faculties. From the perfection of this Being, he inferred 
that he could be no deceiver ; and therefore concluded, 
that his senses, and the other faculties he found in himself, 
are not fallacious, but may be trusted, when a proper use 
is made of them. 

The merit of Descartes cannot be easily conceived 
by those who have not some notion of the Peripatetic 
system in which he was educated. To throw off the 
prejudices of education, and to create a system of nature 
totally different from that which had subdued the under- 
standing of mankind, and kept it in subjection for so 
many centuries, required an uncommon force of mind. 

In the world of Descartes we meet with two kinds of 
beings only, — to wit, body and mind ; the fir<st, the object 
of our senses, the other, of consciousness ; both of them 
things of which we have a distinct apprehension, if the 
human mind be capable of distinct apprehension at all. 
To the first, no qualities are ascribed but extension, 
figure, and motion ; to the last, nothing but thought, and 

* Sir W. Hamilton can find no satisfactory evidence of the existence 
of this sect. — Ed. 



70 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

its various modifications, of which we are conscious.* 
He could observe no common attribute, no resembling 
feature, in the attributes of body and mind, and therefore 
concluded them to be distinct substances, and totally of a 
different nature ; and that body, from its very nature, is 
inanimate and inert, incapable of any kind of thought or 
sensation, or of producing any change or alteration in 
itself. 

Descartes must be allowed the honor of being the 
first who drew a distinct line between the material and in- 
tellectual toorld, which, in all the old systems, were so 
blended together, that it was impossible to say where the 
one ends and the other begins. f How much this dis- 
tinction has contributed to the improvements of modern 
times, in the philosophy both of body and of mind, is not 
easy to say. 

One obvious consequence of this distinction was, that 
accurate reflection on the operations of our own mind is the 
only way to make any progress in the knowledge of it. 
Malebranche, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume were taught 
this lesson by Descartes ; and to it we owe their most 
valuable discoveries in this branch 'of philosophy. The 
analogical way of reasoning concerning the powers of the 
mind from the properties of body, which is the source of 
almost all the errors on this subject, and which is so 
natural to the bulk of mankind, was as contrary to the 
principles of Descartes as it was agreeable to the princi- 
ples of the old philosophy. We may, therefore, truly 
say, that, in that part of philosophy which relates to the 
mind, Descartes laid the foundation, and put us into 
that track which all wise men now acknowledge to be 
the only one in which we can expect success. 

To return to Descartes's notions of the manner of our 
perceiving external objects, from which a concern to do 
justice to the merits of that great reformer in philosophy 
has led me to digress, — he took it for granted, as the old 
philosophers had done, that what we immediately perceive 

* In the Cartesian language, the term thought included all of which 
we are conscious. — H. 

t This assertion is true in general; but some individual exceptions 
might be taken. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. DESCARTES. 71 

must be either in the mind itself, or in the brain, to which 
the mind is immediately present. The impressions made 
upon our organs, nerves, and brain could be nothing, ac- 
cording to his philosophy, but various modifications of 
extension, figure, and motion. There could be nothing 
in the brain like sound or color, taste or smell, heat or 
cold ; these are sensations in the mind, which, by the laws 
of the union of soul and body, are raised on occasion of 
certain traces in the brain ; and although he gives the 
name of ideas to those traces in the brain, he does not 
think it necessary that they should be perfectly like to the 
things which they represent, any more than that words or 
signs should resemble the things they signify. But, says 
he, that we may follow the received opinion as far as is 
possible, we may allow a slight resemblance. Thus we 
know that a print in a book may represent houses, tem- 
ples, and groves ; and so far is it from being necessary 
that the print should be perfectly like the thing it repre- 
sents, that its perfection often requires the contrary. For 
a circle must often be represented by an ellipse, a square 
by a rhombus, and so of other things.* 

It is to be observed, that Descartes rejected a part 
only of the ancient theory, concerning the perception of 
external objects by the senses, and that he adopted the 
other part. That theory may be divided into two parts : 
the first, that images, species, or forms of external ob- 

* But be it observed that Descartes did not allow, far less hold, that 
the mind had any cognizance of these organic motions, — of these ma- 
terial ideas. They were merely the antecedents, established by the 
law of union of soul and body, of the mental idea; which mental idea 
was nothing more than a modification of the mind itself. Reid, I may 
observe in general, does not distinguish, as it especially behooved him to 
do, between what were held by philosophers to be the proximate, causes 
of our mental representations, and these representations themselves as 
the objects of cognition ; i. e., between what are known in the schools 
as the species impresses, and the species expresses. The former, to which 
the name of species, image, idea, was often given, in common with the 
latter, was held on all hands to be unknown to consciousness, and gen- 
erally supposed to be merely certain occult motions in the organism. 
The latter, the result determined by the former, is the mental represen- 
tation, and the immediate or proper object in perception. Great con- 
fusion, to those who do not bear this distinction in mind, is, however, 
the consequence of the verbal ambiguity ; and Reid's misrepresenta- 
tions of the doctrine of the philosophers is, in a great measure, to be 
traced to this source. — H. 



72 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

jects corne from the object, and enter by the avenues of 
the senses to the mind ; the second part is, that the ex- 
ternal object itself is not perceived, but only the species 
or image of it in the mind. The first part Descartes 
and his followers rejected, and refuted by solid argu- 
ments ; but the second part, neither he nor his followers 
have thought of calling in question ; being persuaded, that 
it is only a representative image, in the mind, of the ex- 
ternal object that we perceive, and not the object itself. 
And this image, which the Peripatetics called a species, 
he calls an idea, changing the name only, while he admits 
the thing. 

It seems strange, that the great pains which this philos- 
opher took to throw off the prejudices of education, to. 
dismiss all his former opinions, and to assent to nothing 
till he found evidence that compelled his assent, should 
not have led him to doubt of this opinion of the ancient 
philosophy. It is evidently a philosophical opinion ; for 
the vulgar undoubtedly believe that it is the external ob- 
ject which we immediately perceive, and not a represen- 
tative image of it only. It is for this reason that they 
look upon it as a perfect lunacy to call in question the ex- 
istence of external objects. 

It seems to be admitted as a first principle by the 
learned and the unlearned, that what is really perceived 
must exist, and that to perceive what does not exist is 
impossible. So far the unlearned man and the philoso- 
pher agree. The unlearned man says, I perceive the 
external object, and I perceive it to exist. Nothing can 
be more absurd than to doubt of it. The Peripatetic 
says, What I perceive is the very identical form of the ob- 
ject, which came immediately from the object, and makes 
an impression upon my mind, as a seal does upon wax ; 
and therefore I can have no doubt of the existence of an 
object whose form I perceive. But what says the Car- 
tesian ? I perceive not, says he, the external object it- 
self. So far lie agrees with the Peripatetic, and differs 
from the unlearned man. But I perceive an image, or 
form, or idea, in my own mind, or in my brain. I am 
certain of the existence of the idea, because I immedi- 
ately perceive it. But how this idea is formed, or what 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. MALEBRANCHE. 73 

it represents, is not self-evident ; and therefore I must 
find arguments, by which, from the existence of the idea 
which I perceive, I can infer the existence of an external 
object which it represents. 

As I take this to be a just view of the principles of the 
unlearned man, of the Peripatetic, and of the Cartesian, 
so I think they all reason consequentially from their sev- 
eral principles : that the Cartesian has strong grounds to 
doubt of the existence of external objects ; the Peri- 
patetic very little ground of doubt ; and the unlearned 
man none at all : and that the difference of their situation 
arises from this, — that the unlearned man has no hypoth- 
esis ; the Peripatetic leans upon an hypothesis ; and the 
Cartesian upon one half of that hypothesis.* 

IV. Malebr cinche's Theory.] Malebranche, with a 
very penetrating genius, entered into a more minute ex- 
amination of the powers of the human mind than any one 
before him.f He had the advantage of the discoveries 
made by Descartes, whom he followed without slavish 
attachment. 

He lays it down as a principle admitted by all philoso- 
phers, and which could not be called in question, that we 
do not perceive external objects immediately, but by 
means of images or ideas of them present to the mind. 
" I suppose," says he, "that every one will grant that 
we perceive not the objects that are without us immedi- 
ately, and of themselves. I We see the sun, the stars, 
and an infinity of objects without us ; and it is not at all 

* M. Gamier has published the best edition of Descartes's meta- 
physical writings, (Euvres Philosnphiques de Descartes (4 vols., 8vo, 
Paris, 1835). For the best account of Cartesianism, and its influence 
on modern thought, see Histoire et Critique de la Revolution Cartesi- 
enne, par M. Francisque Bouillier. See, also, Stewart's Dissertation, 
Part I. Chap. II. Sect. II.; Hallam's Literature of Europe, from 
1600 to 1650, Chap. III. Sect. III. ; Damiron, Essai sur U Histoire de 
la Philosophic en France, au XVII e Siecle, Liv. II. 

We have met with but two English translations from Descartes ; his 
Discourse of Method (l6mo, London, 1649), published anonymously, 
and his Six Metaphysical Meditations, by William Molyneux (]6mo, 
London, 1680). — Ed. 

i Nicholas Malebranche, a priest of the Oratory, was born at Paris, 
August 6, 1638, and died, in the same city, October 13, 1715. — Ed. 

t Rather in or by themselves (par eux mtmes). — H. 
7 



74 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

likely that the soul sallies out of the body, and, as it were, 
takes a walk through the heavens to contemplate all those 
objects. She sees them not, therefore, by themselves ; 
and the immediate object of the mind, when it sees the 
sun, for example, is not the sun, but something which is 
intimately united to the soul ; and it is that which I call 
an idea : so that by the word idea, I understand nothing 
else here but that which is the immediate object, or near- 
est to the mind, when we perceive any object. It ought 
to be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's per- 
ceiving any object, it is absolutely necessary that the idea 
of that object be actually present to it. Of this it is not 
possible to doubt. The things which the soul perceives 
are of two kinds. They are either in the soul, or they 
are without the soul : those that are in the soul are its 
own thoughts, that is to say, all its different modifications. 
The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving these things. 
But with regard to things without the soul, we cannot 
perceive them but by means of ideas." * 

Having laid this foundation, as a principle which was 
common to all philosophers, and which admitted of no 
doubt, he proceeds to enumerate all the possible ways by 
which the ideas of sensible objects may be presented to 
the mind : — Either, first, they come from the bodies 
which we perceive ; or, secondly, the soul has the power 
of producing them in itself; or, thirdly, they are pro- 
duced by the Deity, either in our creation, or occasion- 
ally, as there is use for them ; or, fourthly, the soul has 
in itself virtually and eminently, as the schools speak, all 
the perfections which it perceives in bodies; or, fifthly, 
the soul is united with a being possessed of all perfection, 
who has in himself the ideas of all created things. 

This he takes to be a complete enumeration of all the 
possible ways in which the ideas of external objects may 
be presented to our minds. He employs a whole chapter 
upon each ; refuting the first four, and confirming the last 
by various arguments. The Deity, being always present 
to our minds in a more intimate manner than any other 
being, may, upon occasion of the impressions made on 

* De la Recherche de la V6ril6, Liv. III. Partie II. Chap. I. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. MALEBRANCHE. 75 

our bodies, discover to us, as far as he thinks proper, and 
according to fixed laws, his own ideas of the object ; and 
thus " we see all things in God," or in the Divine ideas.* 

However visionary this system may appear on a super- 
ficial view, yet when we consider, that he agreed with the 
whole tribe of philosophers in conceiving ideas to be the 
immediate objects of perception, and that he found insu- 
perable difficulties, and even absurdities, in every other 
hypothesis concerning them, it will not appear so wonder- 
ful that a man of very great genius should fall into this ; 
and probably it pleased so devout a man the more, that it 
sets in the most striking light our dependence upon God, 
and his continual presence with us. 

He distinguished, more accurately than any philosopher 
had done before, the objects which we perceive from the 
sensations in our own minds, which, by the laws of nature, 
always accompany the perception of the object. As in 
many things, so particularly in this, he has great merit : 
for this, I apprehend, is a key that opens the way to a 
right understanding both of our external senses and of 
other powers of the mind. The vulgar confound sensa- 
tion with other powers of the mind, and with their ob- 
jects, because the purposes of life do not make a distinc- 
tion necessary. The confounding of these in common 
language has led philosophers, in one period, to make 
those things external which really are sensations in our 
own minds ; and, in another period, running, as is usual, 
into the contrary extreme, to make almost every thing to 
be a sensation or feeling in our minds. 

It is obvious, that the system of Malebranche leaves no 
evidence of the existence of a material world, from what 
we perceive by our senses ; for the Divine ideas, which 
are the objects immediately perceived, were the same be- 
fore the world was created. Malebranche was too acute 
_ not to discern this consequence of his system, and too 
candid not to acknowledge it : he fairly owns it, and en- 

* It should have been noticed that the Malebranchian philosophy is 
fundamentally Cartesian, and that, after De la Forge and Geulinx, the 
doctrine of Divine Jlssislance, implicitly maintained by Descartes, was 
most ably developed by Malebranche, to whom it owes, indeed, a prin- 
cipal share of its celebrity. — H. 



76 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

deavours to make advantage of it, resting the complete 
evidence we have of the existence of matter upon the 
authority of revelation. He shows, that the arguments 
brought by Descartes to prove the existence of a ma- 
terial world, though as good as any that reason could 
furnish, are not perfectly conclusive ; and though he ac- 
knowledges, with Descartes, that we feel a strong pro- 
pensity to believe the existence of a material world, yet 
he thinks this is not sufficient ; and that to yield to such 
propensities without evidence, is to expose ourselves to 
perpetual delusion. He thinks, therefore, that the only 
convincing evidence we have of the existence of a mate- 
rial world is, that we are assured by revelation that "God 
created the heavens and the earth," and that " the Word 
was made flesh." He is sensible of the ridicule to which 
so strange an opinion may expose him among those who 
are guided by prejudice ; but, for the sake of truth, he 
is willing to bear it. But no author, not even Bishop 
Berkeley, has shown more clearly, that, either upon his 
own system, or upon the common principles of philoso- 
phers with regard to ideas, we have no evidence left, 
either from reason or from our senses, of the existence of 
a material world. It is no more than justice to Father 
Malebranche to acknowledge, that Bishop Berkeley's 
arguments are to be found in him in their whole force.* 

Malebranche's system was adopted by many devout 
people in France, of both sexes ; but it seems to have 
had no great currency in other countries. Mr. Locke 
wrote a small tract against it, which is found among his 
posthumous works : but whether it was written in haste, 
or after the vigor of his understanding was impaired by 
age, there is less of strength and solidity in it than in 
most of his writings. f The most formidable antagonist 

* Once, and only once, these eminent philosophers had the pleasure 
of an interview. "The conversation," we are told, "turned on the 
non-existence of matter. Malebranche, who had an inflammation in his 
lungs, and whom Berkeley found preparing a medicine in his cell, and 
cooking it in a small pipkin, exerted his voice so violently in the heat 
of their dispute, that he increased his disorder, which carried him off 
in a few days after." Biog. Brit., Art. Berkeley. — Ed. 

t In answer to Locke's Examination of P. Malebranche's Opinions, 
Leibnitz wrote Remarques, making No. LXVI. of Erdmann's edition of 
his Opera P/iilosopliica. — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. ARNAULD. 77 

Malebranche met with was in his own country, — Antony 
Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, and one of" the acutest 
writers the Jansenists have to boast of, though that sect 
has produced many. Those who choose to see this 
system attacked on the one hand, and defended on the 
other, with subtilty of argument and elegance of expres- 
sion, and on the part of Arnauld with much wit and hu- 
mor, may find satisfaction by reading Malebranche's In- 
quiry after Truth; Arnauld's book of True and False 
Ideas ; Malebranche's Defence ; and some subsequent 
replies and defences. In controversies of this kind, the 
assailant commonly has the advantage, if the parties are 
not unequally matched ; for it is easier to overturn all the 
theories of philosophers upon this subject, than to defend 
any one of them. Mr. Bayle makes a very just remark 
upon this controversy, that the arguments of Mr. Arnauld 
against the system of Malebranche were often unanswer- 
able, but they were capable of being retorted against his 
own system ; and his ingenious antagonist knew well how 
to use this defence.* 

V. JlrnauUVs Theory.'] The controversy between 
Malebranche and Arnauld f necessarily led them to con- 

* Independently of his principal hypothesis altogether, the works of 
Malebranche deserve the most attentive study, both on account of the 
many admirable thoughts and observations with which they abound, 
and because they are among the few consummate models of philosoph- 
ical eloquence. — II. 

Charpentier has published in his Bibliot.heque Philosophique a good 
edition of Malebranche's metaphysical writings, — CEuvres, edition col- 
lationee sur les meiileurs textes, comprenant : les Entretiens Mdtdphy- 
sicjues, les Meditations, le Traiti de L 'Amour de Dieu, V Entretien d'un 
Philosophe Chretien et d'un Philosophe Chinois, la Recherche de la Vi- 
rite, avec notes et introduction par J. Simon (2 vols., 12mo). For fur- 
ther information respecting Malebranche and his philosophy, see Le 
Cartesianisme ou la Veritable Renovation des Sciences, par M . Bordas 
Demoulin ; Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques, Art. Malebranche ; 
Damiron, De la Philosophie en France, au XVIl e Sidcle, Liv. VI. ; Stew- 
art's Dissertation, Part I. Chap. II. Sect. II. 

Malebranche's Search after Truth was translated into English by 
Eichard Sault (2 vols., 12mo, London, 1604) ; and his Treatise of Mo- 
rality, by James Shipton (12mo, London, 1699). Sault translated also 
his Treatise of Nature and Grace. — Ep. 

t Antoine Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, whom the Port-Royal- 
ists call "le grand." was born at Paris, February 8, 1612, and died at 
Brussels, August 8, 1694. — Ed. 
7 * 



78 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

sider what kind of things ideas are, a point upon which 
other philosophers had very generally been silent. Both 
of them professed the doctrine universally received, that 
we perceive not material things immediately, that it is 
their ideas that are the immediate objects of our thought, 
and that it is in the idea of every thing that we perceive 
its properties. 

It is necessary to premise, that both these authors use 
the word perception., as Descartes had done before them, 
to signify every operation of the understanding.* " To 
think, to know, to perceive, are the same thing," says 
Mr. Arnauld, Chap. V. def. 2. It is likewise to be ob- 
served, that the various operations of the mind are by 
both called modifications of the mind. Perhaps they 
were led into this phrase by the Cartesian doctrine, that 
the essence of the mind consists in thinking, as that of 
body consists in extension. I apprehend, therefore, that 
when they make sensation, perception, memory, and im- 
agination to be various modifications of the mind, they 
mean no more than that these are things which can only 
exist in the mind as their subject. We express the same 
thing, by calling them various modes of thinking, or vari- 
ous operations of the mind.f 

The things which the mind perceives, says Male- 
branche, are of two kinds. They are either in the mind 
itself, or they are external to it. The things in the mind 
are all its different modifications, its sensations, its imag- 
inations, its pure intellections, its passions and affections. 
These are immediately perceived ; we are conscious of 
them, and have no need of ideas to represent them to us. 

Things external to the mind are either corporeal or 
spiritual. With regard to the last, he thinks it possible, 
that, in another state, spirits may be an immediate object 
of our understandings, and so be perceived without ideas ; 
that there may be such a union of spirits as that they 



* Every apprehensive, or strictly cognitive, operation of the under- 
standing. — H. 

t Modes or modifications of mind, in the Cartesian school, mean mere- 
ly what some recent philosophers express by states of mind, and in- 
clude both the active and passive phenomena of the conscious subject. 
The terms were used by Descartes as well as by his disciples. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. ARNAULD. 79 

may immediately perceive each other, and communicate 
their thoughts mutually, without signs and without ideas. 
But leaving this as a problematical point, he holds it to 
be undeniable, that material things cannot be perceiv- 
ed immediately, but only by the mediation of ideas. He 
thought it likewise undeniable, that the idea must be im- 
mediately present to the mind, that it must touch the 
soul, as it were, and modify its perception of the object. 

From these principles we must necessarily conclude, ei- 
ther that the idea is some modification of the human mind, 
or that it must be an idea in the Divine mind, which is 
always intimately present with our minds. The matter 
being brought to this alternative, Malebranche considers, 
first, all the possible ways such a modification may be 
produced in our mind as that we call an idea of a mate- 
rial object, taking it for granted always that it must be 
an object perceived, and something different from the act 
of the mind in perceiving it. He finds insuperable ob- 
jections against every hypothesis of such ideas being pro- 
duced in our minds, and therefore concludes, that the 
immediate objects of perception are the ideas of the 
Divine mind. 

Against this system Arnauld wrote his book of True 
and False Ideas. He does not object to the alternative 
mentioned by Malebranche ; but he maintains, that ideas 
are modifications of our minds. And finding no other 
modification of the human mind which can be called the 
idea of an external object, he says it is only another- word 
for perception. (Chap. V. def. 3.) "I take the idea 
of an object, and the perception of an object, to be the 
same thing. I do not say whether there may be other 
things to which the name of idea may be given. But it 
is certain that there are ideas taken in this sense, and 
that these ideas are either attributes or modifications of 
our minds."* 

* Arnauld did not allow that perceptions and ideas are really or nu- 
merically distinguished, — i. e. as one thing from another thing; not 
even that they are modally distinguished, — i. e. as a thing from its 
mode. He maintained that they are really identical, and only ration- 
ally discriminated as viewed in different relations ; the indivisible men- 
tal modification being called a perception, by reference to the mind or 
thinking subject, — an idea, by reference to the mediate object or thing 



80 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

This, I think, indeed, was to attack the system of 
Malebranche upon its weak side, and where, at the same 
time, an attack was least expected. Philosophers had 
been so unanimous in maintaining that we do not perceive 
external objects immediately, but by certain representa- 
tive images of them called ideas, that Malebranche might 
well think his system secure upon that quarter, and that 
the only question to be determined was, in what subject 
those ideas are placed, whether in the human or in the 
Divine mind. 

But, says Arnauld, those ideas are mere chimeras, fic- 
tions of philosophers ; there are no such beings in nature ; 
and therefore it is to no purpose to inquire whether they 
are in the Divine or in the human mind. The only true 
and real ideas are our perceptions, which are acknowl- 
edged by all philosophers, and Malebranche himself, to 
be acts or modifications of our own minds. He does not 
say that the fictitious ideas were a fiction of Malebranche. 
He acknowledges that they had been very generally 
maintained by the scholastic philosophers, and points out, 
very judiciously, the prejudices that had led them into the 
belief of such ideas. 

Of all the powers of our mind, the external senses are 
thought to be the best understood, and their objects are 
the most familiar. Hence we measure other powers by 
them, and transfer to other powers the language which 
properly belongs to them. The objects of sense must be 
present to the sense, or w T ithin its sphere, in order to 
their being perceived. Hence, by analogy, we are led 
to say of every thing when we think of it, that it is pres- 
ent to the mind, or in the mind. But this presence is 
metaphorical, or analogical only ; and Arnauld calls it 
objective presence, to distinguish it from that local pres- 
ence which is required in objects that are perceived by 
sense'. But both being called by the same name, they 
are confounded together, and those things that belong 
only to real or local presence are attributed to the meta- 
phorical. We are likewise accustomed to see objects by 

thought. Arnauld everywhere avows that he denies ideas only as ex- 
istences distinct from the act itself of perception. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. ARNAULD. 81 

their images in a mirror, or in water : and hence are led, 
by analogy, to think that objects may be presented to the 
memory or imagination, in some similar manner, by ima- 
ges, which philosophers have called ideas. 

By such prejudices and analogies, Arnauld conceives, 
men have been led t6 believe, that the objects of mem- 
ory and imagination must be presented to the mind by 
images or ideas ; and the philosophers have been more 
carried away by these prejudices than even the vulgar, 
because the use made of this theory was to explain and 
account for the various operations of the mind, a matter 
in which the vulgar take no concern. He thinks, how- 
ever, that Descartes had got the better of these prejudi- 
ces, and that he' uses the word idea as signifying the same 
thing with perception, and is therefore surprised that a 
disciple of Descartes, and one who was so great an ad- 
mirer of him as Malebranche was, should be carried away 
by them. It is strange, indeed, that the two most emi- 
nent disciples of Descartes, and his contemporaries, 
should differ so essentially with regard to his doctrine 
concerning ideas. 

I shall not attempt to give the reader an account of the 
continuation of this controversy between those two acute 
philosophers, in the subsequent defences and replies : 
because I have not access to see them. After much rea- 
soning, and some animosity, each continued in his own 
opinion, and left his antagonist where he found him. 
Malebranche's opinion of our seeing all things in God 
soon died away of itself ; and Arnauld's notion of ideas 
seems to have been less regarded than it deserved, by 
the philosophers that came after him ; perhaps for this 
reason, among others, that it seemed to be in some sort 
given up by himself, in his attempting to reconcile it to 
the common doctrine concerning ideas.* 

* The opinion of Arnauld in regard to the nature of ideas was by 
no means overlooked by subsequent philosophers. It is found fully 
detailed in almost every systematic course or compend of philosophy 
which appeared for a long time after its first promulgation, and in many 
of these it is the doctrine recommended as the true. Arnauld's was 
indeed the opinion which latterly prevailed in the Cartesian school. 
From this it passed into other schools. Leibnitz, like Arnauld, regard - 
. ed ideas, notions, representations, as mere modifications of the mind, 



82 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

Arnauld has employed the whole of his sixth chapter, 
to show that these ways of speaking, common among 
philosophers, to wit, that we perceive not things immedi- 
ately ; that it is their ideas that are the immediate objects 
of our thoughts ; that it is in the idea of every thing 
that we perceive its properties, are not to be rejected, but 
are true when rightly understood. He labors to reconcile 
these expressions to his own definition of ideas, by observ- 
ing, that every perception and every thought is necessarily 
conscious of itself, and reflects upon itself ; and that, by 
this consciousness and reflection, it is its own immediate 
object. Whence he infers, that the idea — that is, the 
perception — -is the immediate object of perception.* 

(what by his disciples were called material ideas, like the cerebral 
ideas of Descartes, are out of the question,) and no cruder opinion than 
this has ever subsequently found a footing in any of the German sys- 
tems. 

" I don't know," says Mr. Stewart, " of any author who, prior to Dr. 
Reid, has expressed himself on this subject with so much justness and 
precision as Father Buffier, in the following passage of his Treatise on 
First Truths (p. 311) : — 'If we confine ourselves to what is intelligi- 
ble in our observations on ideas, we will say, they are nothing but mere 
modifications of the mind as a thinking being. They are called ideas 
with regard to the object represented, and perceptions with regard to 
the faculty representing. It is manifest that our ideas, considered in 
this sense, are not more distinguished than motion is from the body 
moved.' " — Elements, Add. to note to Part I. Chap. IV. Sect. II. 

In this passage, Burlier only repeats the doctrine of Arnauld, in Ar- 
nauld's own words. 

Dr. Thomas Brown, on the other hand, has endeavoured to show that 
this doctrine (which he identifies with Reid's) had been long the cath- 
olic opinion, and that Reid, in his attack on the ideal system, only re- 
futed what had been already almost; universally exploded. In this at- 
tempt he is, however, singularly unfortunate; for, with the exception 
of Crousaz, all the examples he adduces to evince the prevalence of 
Arnauld's doctrine are only so many mistakes, so many instances, in 
fact, which might be alleged in confirmation of the very opposite con- 
clusion. See Edinburgh Review, Vol. Lit. pp. 181-196. — H. 

* Reid's discontent with Arnauld's opinion — an opinion which is 
stated with great perspicuity by its author — may be used as an argu- 
ment to show that his own doctrine is, however ambiguous, that of in- 
tuitive or immediate perception. (See Note C.) Arnauld's theory is 
identical with the finer form of representative or mediate perception, 
and the difficulties of that doctrine were not overlooked by his great 
antagonist. Arnauld well objected, that, when we see a horse, accord- 
ing to Malebranche, what we see is in reality God himself; but Male- 
branche well' rejoined, that, when we see a horse, according to Ar- 
nauld, what we see is, in reality, only a modification of ourselves. — H. 

Charpentier has published in his Bibliotheque P/ulosophique the met- 
aphysical writings of Arnauld, (Envies Philosophiques, collationnees sur 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LEIBNITZ. 83 

VI. Leibnitz^s Theory.] The next system concern- 
ing perception, of which I shall give some account, is the 
invention of the famous German philosopher, Leibnitz,* 
who, while he lived, held the first rank among the Ger- 
mans in all parts of philosophy, as well as in mathematics, 
in jurisprudence, in the knowledge of antiquities, and in 
every branch both of science and of literature. He was 
highly respected by emperors, and by many kings and 
princes, who bestowed upon him singular marks of their 
esteem. He was a particular favorite of our Queen Caro- 
line, consort of George II., with whom he continued his 
correspondence by letters after she came to the crown of 
Britain, till his death. 

The famous controversy between him and the British 
mathematicians, whether he or Sir Isaac Newton was the 
inventor of that noble improvement in mathematics, called* 
by Newton the Method of Fluxions, and by Leibnitz 
the Differential Method, engaged the attention of the 
mathematicians in Europe for several years. He had 
likewise a controversy with the learned and judicious Dr. 
Samuel Clarke, about several points of the Newtonian 
philosophy which he disapproved. The papers which 
gave occasion to this controversy, with all the replies and 
rejoinders, had the honor to be transmitted from the one 
party to the other through the hands of Queen Caroline, 
and were afterwards published. 

His authority, in all matters of philosophy, is still so 
great in most parts of Germany, that they are considered 
as bold spirits, and a kind of heretics, who dissent from 

les meilleurs textes, avec une introduction par J. Simon (12mo). Ar- 
nauld, with the assistance of Nicole, was the author of La Logique, ou 
VArt de Penser, of which, under the name of the Port-Royal Logic, there 
have been several editions in English. Arnauld assisted Pascal in the 
composition of several of the Lettres Provinc.iales. His entire works fill 
forty-five closely-printed quarto volumes. His whole life was consumed 
in controversies, and distracted by the persecutions to which these con- 
troversies led. " Nicole, who bore a share in most of his literary labors, 
but was of a milder character than Arnauld, told him one day, that he 
was weary of this incessant warfare, and wished to rest. ' Rest! ' said 
Arnauld ; ' will you not have the whole of eternity to rest in ? ' " See 
Bayle, Diet.., Art. Arnauld, Ant.; and The Biographical Dictionary of the 
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, under his name. — Ed. 
* Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz was born at Leipzig, July 3, 1646, and 
died at Hanover, November 14, 1714. — Ed. 



84 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

him in any thing. Christian Wolff, the most voluminous 
writer in philosophy of this age, is considered as the 
great interpreter and advocate of the Leibnitzian system, 
and reveres as an oracle whatever has dropped from the 
pen of Leibnitz. This author proposed two great works 
upon the mind. The first, which I have seen, he pub- 
lished with the title of Psychologia Empirica. The 
other was to have the title of Psychologia Rationalis ; 
and to it he refers for his explication of the theory of 
Leibnitz with regard to the mind. But whether it was 
published I have not learned.* 

I must, therefore, take the short account I am to give of 
this system from the writings of Leibnitz himself, without 
the light which his interpreter, Wolff, may have thrown 
upon it. 

- Leibnitz conceived the whole universe, bodies as well 
as minds, to be made up of monads, that is, simple sub- 
stances, each of which is by the Creator, in the begin- 
ning of its existence, endowed with certain active and 
perceptive powers. A monad, therefore, is an active 
substance, simple, without parts or figure, which has with- 
in itself the power to produce all the changes it undergoes 
from the beginning of its existence to eternity. The 
changes which the monad undergoes, of what kind soever, 
though they may seem to us the effect of causes operat- 
ing from without, yet they are only the gradual and suc- 
cessive evolutions of its own internal powers, which would 
have produced all the same changes and motions, although 
there had been no other being in the universe. 

Every human soul is a monad joined to an organized 
body, which organized body consists of an infinite num- 
ber of monads, each having some degree of active and of 
perceptive power in itself. But the whole machine of 

* It was published in 1734. Such careless ignorance of the most 
distinguished works on the subject of an author's speculations is pecu- 
liarly British. — H. 

Wolff, who died in 1754, was succeeded by Kant, whose Kritik 
reiner Vernunft appeared in 1781, and commenced a new philosophical 
era in Germany, corresponding to that which the writings of Reid 
commenced in Great Britain. The French Eclectics of the present day 
claim to be heirs of what is good and enduring in both of these move- 
ments. — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LEIBNITZ. 85 

the body has a relation to that monad which we call the 
soul, which is, as it were, the centre of the whole. 

As the universe is completely filled with monads, with- 
out any chasm or void, and thereby every body acts upon 
every other body, according to its vicinity or distance, 
and is mutually reacted upon by every other body, it fol- 
lows, says Leibnitz, that every monad is a kind of living 
mirror, which reflects the whole universe, according to 
its point of view, and represents the whole more or less 
distinctly. 

I cannot undertake to reconcile this part of the system 
with what was before mentioned, — to wit, that every 
change in a monad is the evolution of its own original 
powers, and would have happened though no other sub- 
stance had been created. But to proceed. 

There are different orders of monads, some higher, 
and others lower. The higher orders he calls dominant ; 
such is the human soul. The monads that compose the 
organized bodies of men, animals, and plants, are of a 
lower order, and subservient to the dominant monads. 
But every monad, of whatever order, is a complete sub- 
stance in itself, — indivisible, having no parts; indestruct- 
ible, because, having no parts, it cannot perish by any 
kind of decomposition ; it can only perish by annihilation, 
and we have no reason to believe that God will ever an- 
nihilate any of the beings which he has made. 

The monads of a lower order may, by a regular evo- 
lution of their powers, rise to a higher order. They 
may successively be joined to organized bodies, of various 
forms and different degrees of perception ; but they never 
die, nor cease to be in some degree active and percipient. 

This philosopher makes a distinction between percep- 
tion and what he calls apperception. The first is com- 
mon to all monads, the last proper to the higher orders, 
among which are human souls. 

By apperception he understands that degree of percep- 
tion which reflects, as it were, upon itself ; by which we 
are conscious of our own existence, and conscious of our 
perceptions ; by which we can reflect upon the operations 
of our own minds, and can comprehend abstract truths. 
The mind, in many operations, he thinks, particularly in 



86 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

sleep, and in many actions common to us with the brutes, 
has not this apperception, although it is still filled with a 
multitude of obscure and indistinct perceptions, of which 
we are not conscious. 

He conceives that our bodies and minds are united in 
such a manner, that neither has any physical influence 
upon the other. Each performs all its operations by its 
own internal springs and powers ; yet the operations of 
one correspond exactly with those of the other, by a pre- 
established harmony ; just as one clock may be so adjust- 
ed as to keep time with another, although each has its 
own moving power, and neither receives any part of its 
motion from the other. So that according to this system 
all our perceptions of external objects would be the same, 
though external things had never existed ; our perception 
of them would continue, although, by the power of God, 
they should this moment be annihilated. We do not per- 
ceive external things because they exist, but because the 
soul was originally so constituted as to produce in itself 
all its successive changes, and all its successive percep- 
tions, independently of the external objects. 

Every perception or apperception, every operation, in 
a word, of the soul, is a necessary consequence o"f the 
state of it immediately preceding that operation ; and this 
state is the necessary consequence of the state preceding 
it ; and so backwards, until you come to its first forma- 
tion and constitution, which produces successively, and 
by necessary consequence, all its successive states to the 
end of its existence : so that in this respect the soul, and 
every monad, may be compared to a watch wound up, 
which, having the spring of its motion in itself, by the 
gradual evolution of its own spring produces all the suc- 
cessive motions we observe in it. 

In this account of Leibnitz's system concerning monads, 
and the preestablished harmony, I have kept as nearly as 
I could to his own expressions, in his New System of the 
Nature and Communication of Substances, and of the 
Union of Soul and Body ; and in the several illustrations 
of that new system which he afterwards published ; and 
in his Principles of Nature and Grace founded in Rea- 
son. I shall now make a few remarks upon this system. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LEIBNITZ. 87 

1. To pass over the irresistible necessity of all human 
actions, which makes a part of this system, and which 
will be considered in another place, I observe first, that 
the distinction made betiveen perception and apperception 
is obscure and unphilosophical. As far as we can dis- 
cover, every operation of our mind is attended with con- 
sciousness, and particularly that which we call the per- 
ception of external objects ; and to speak of a perception 
of which we are not conscious, is to speak without any 
meaning. 

As consciousness is the only power by which we dis- 
cern the operations of our own minds, or can form any 
notion of them, an operation of mind of which we are 
not conscious is we know not what ; and to call such an 
operation by the name of perception is an abuse of lan- 
guage. No man can perceive an object, without being 
conscious that he perceives it. No man can think, with- 
out being conscious that he thinks. What men are not 
conscious of cannot, therefore, without impropriety, be 
called either perception or thought of any kind. And if 
we will suppose operations of mind, of which we are not 
conscious, and give a name to such creatures of our 
imagination, that name must signify what we know nothing 
about.* 

2. To suppose bodies organized or unorganized to be 
made up of indivisible monads which have no parts, is 
contrary to all that ice know of body. It is essential to a 
body to have parts ; and every part of a body is a body, 
and has parts also. No number of parts, without exten- 
sion or figure, not even an infinite number, if we may use 
that expression, can, by being put together, make a whole 
that has extension and figure, which all bodies have. - 

3. It is contrary to all that we know of bodies to 
ascribe to the monads, of which they are supposed to be 
compounded, perception and active force. If a philoso- 

* The language in which Leibnitz expresses his doctrine of latent 
modifications of mind, which, though out of consciousness, manifest 
their existence in their effects, is objectionable ; the doctrine itself is 
not only true, but of the very highest importance in psychology, 
although it has never yet been appreciated, or even understood, by any 
writer on philosophy in this island. — H. 



88 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

pher thinks proper to say, that a clod of earth both per- 
ceives and has active force, let him bring his proofs. But 
he ought not to expect that men who have understanding 
will so far give it up as to receive without proof whatever 
his imagination may suggest. 

4. This system overturns all authority of our senses, 
and leaves not the least ground to believe the existence of 
the objects of sense, or the existence of any thing which 
depends upon the authority of our senses ; for our percep- 
tion of objects, according to this system, has no depen- 
dence upon any thing external, and would be the same as 
it is, supposing external objects had never existed, or that 
they were from this moment annihilated. It is remark- 
able that Leibnitz's system, that of Malebranche, and the 
common system of ideas, or images of external objects 
in the mind, do all agree in overturning all the authority 
of our senses ; and this one thing, as long as men retain 
their senses, will always make all these systems truly 
ridiculous. 

5. The last observation I shall make upon this system, 
which indeed is equally applicable to all the systems of 
perception I have mentioned, is, that it is all hypothesis, 
made up of conjectures and suppositions, without proof. 
The Peripatetics supposed sensible species to be sent 
forth by the objects of sense. The moderns suppose 
ideas in the brain, or in the mind. Malebranche sup- 
posed, that we perceive the ideas of the Divine mind. 
Leibnitz supposed monads and a preestablished harmony ; 
and these monads being creatures of his own making, he 
is at liberty to give them what properties and powers his 
fancy may suggest.* Such suppositions, while there is 
no proof of them offered, are nothing but the fictions of 
human fancy ; and if they were true, would solve no 
difficulty, but raise many new ones. It is therefore more 
agreeable to good sense, and to sound philosophy, to rest 
satisfied with what our consciousness and attentive reflec- 
tion discover to us of the nature of perception, than, by 

14 It is a disputed point whether Leibnitz were serious in his monad- 
ology and preestablished harmony. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LOCKE. 89 

inventing hypotheses, to attempt to explain things which 
are above the reach of human understanding.* 

VII. Locke's Theory.'] The reputation which Locke's 
Essay concerning Human Understanding had at home 
from the beginning, and which it has gradually acquired 
abroad, is a sufficient testimony of its merit. f There is 
perhaps no book of the metaphysical kind that has been 
so generally read by those who understand the language, 
or that is more adapted to teach men to think with precis- 
ion, | and to inspire them with that candor and love of 
truth, which is the genuine spirit of philosophy. He gave, 
I believe, the first example in the English language of 
writing on such abstract subjects with a remarkable 'de- 
gree of simplicity and perspicuity ; and in this he has 
been happily imitated by others that came after him. No 
author has more successfully pointed out the danger of am- 
biguous words, and the importance of having distinct and 

* God. Guil. Leibnitii Opera Philosopkica qua extant Latina Gallica 
Germanica omnia, edited by Erdmann (royal 8vo, Berlin, 1840), is 
the best edition of Leibnitz's metaphysical writings. Most of them are 
also included in GHuvres de Leibnitz, published, with an introduction, by 
M. Jacques (2 vols., 12mo, Paris, 1842). The best life of this philoso- 
pher is in German, — Gottfried Wilhehn Freiherr von Leibnitz, Eine Bi- 
ographie, von Dr. G. E. Guhrauer (2 vols., 12mo, Breslau, 1842). A 
life in English on the basis of this work, but much abridged, has been 
published by John M. Mackie (12mo, Boston, 1845). For an exposi- 
tion of his system, see Feuerbach, Darstellung und Kriiik der Leibnitzi- 
chen Philosophie; Buhle, Histoire de la Philosophie Moderne, Tome IV. 
Chap. III. ; Biographie Universelte, Art. Leibnitz ; Stewart's Dissertation, 
Part II. Sect. II. 

The ashes of Leibnitz repose under the court church of Hanover, with 
no other inscription to mark the spot than these two words : — Ossa 
Leibnitii. But, as Mr. Stuart observes, " the best cloge of Leibnitz is 
furnished by the literary history of the eighteenth century. Whoever 
takes the pains to compare it with his works, and with his epistolary 
correspondence, will find reason to doubt, whether, at the singular era 
when he appeared, he could have more accelerated the advancement 
of knowledge by the concentration of his studies, than he has actually 
done by the universality of his aims ; and whether he does not afFord 
one of the few instances to which the words of the poet may literally 
be applied : — 

' Si non errasset, fecerat ille minus.' " 

—Ed. 

t John Locke was born at Wrington, near Bristol, August 29, 1632, 
and died at the house of his friend, Sir Francis Masham, at Oates, in 
Essex, October 28. 1704, where he had passed the last twelve years of 
his life. — Ed. 

t To praise Locke for precision is rather too much. — H, 
8* 



90 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

determinate notions in judging and reasoning. His obser- 
vations on the various powers of the human understand- 
ing, on the use and abuse of words, and on the extent and 
limits of human knowledge, are drawn from attentive re- 
flection on the operations of his own mind, the true source 
of all real knowledge on these subjects, and show an un- 
common degree of penetration and judgment. But he 
needs no panegyric of mine; and I mention these things 
only that, when I have occasion to differ from him, I may 
not be thought insensible of the merit of an author whom 
I highly respect, and to whom I owe my first lights in 
those studies, as well as my attachment to them.* 

He sets out in his essay with a full conviction, common 
to him with other philosophers, that ideas in the mind are 
the objects of all our thoughts in every operation of the 
understanding. This leads him to use the word ideaf so 
very frequently, beyond what was usual in the English 
language, that he thought it necessary in his introduction 
to make this apology: — " It being that term," says he, 
" which, I think, serves best to stand for whatsoever is 
the object of the understanding, when a man thinks, I 
have used it to express whatever is meant by phantasm, 
notion, species, or whatever it is which the mind can be 
employed about in thinking; and I could not avoid fre- 
quently using it. I presume it will be granted me, that 
there are such ideas in men's minds; every man is con- 
scious of them in himself, and men's words and actions 
will satisfy him that they are in others." 

Speaking of the reality of our knowledge, he saj's, " It 
is evident the mind knoios not things immediately, but only 
by the intervention of the ideas it has of them. Our knowl- 
edge, therefore, is real, only so far as there is a conformity 
between our ideas and the reality of things. But what 
shall be here the criterion? How shall the mind, when it 

* Sir James Mackintosh has said : — " The Treatise on the Law of 
War and Peace, the Essay concerning Human Understanding, the Spirit 
of Laws, and the Inquiry into the Causes of the Wealth of JYations, are the 
works which have most directly influenced the general opinion of 
Europe during the last two centuries." — Edinburgh Review, Vol. 
XXXVI. p. 240. The Essay concerning Human Understanding was 
first printed in 1690. — Ed. 

t Locke may be said to have first naturalized the word in English 
philosophical language, in its Cartesian extension. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LOCKE. 91 

perceives nothing but its own ideas, know that they agree 
with things themselves? This, though it seems not to 
want difficulty, yet I think there be two sorts of ideas that 
we may be assured agree with things." 

We see that Mr. Locke was aware, no less than Des- 
cartes, that the doctrine of ideas made it necessary, and 
at the same time difficult, to prove the existence of a ma- 
terial world without us; because the mind, according to 
that doctrine, perceives nothing but a world of ideas in 
itself. Not only Descartes, but Maiebranche and Ar- 
nauld, had perceived this difficulty, and attempted to re- 
move it with little success. Mr. Locke attempts the 
same thing ; but his arguments are feeble. He even 
seems to be conscious of this: for he concludes his rea- 
soning with this observation, — " That we have evidence 
sufficient to direct us in attaining the good and avoiding 
the evil caused by external objects, and that this is the 
important concern we have in being made acquainted 
with them." This, indeed, is saying no more than will be 
granted by those who deny the existence of a material 
world . 

As there is no material difference between Locke and 
Descartes with regard to the perception of objects by 
the senses, there is the less occasion, in this place, to take 
notice of all their differences in other points. They dif- 
fered about the origin of our ideas. Descartes thought 
some of them were innate:* the other maintained, that 
there are no innate ideas, and that they are all derived 
from two sources, — to wit, sensation and reflection; 
meaning by sensation, the operations of our external 
senses; and by reflection, that attention which we are ca- 
pable of giving to the operations of our own minds. f 

* The doctrine of Descartes, in relation to innate ideas, has been very 
generally misunderstood; and by no one more than by Locke. What 
it really amounted to is clearly stated in his strictures on the Program 
of Regius. Justice has latterly been done him, among others, by Mr. 
Stewart, in his Dissertation, and by M. Laromiguiere, in his Cours. See 
also the old controversy of De Vries with Rbell on this point. — H. 

t That Locke did not (as even Mr. Stewart supposes) introduce refec- 
tion, either name or thing, into the philosophy of mind, see Note I. 
Nor was he even the first explicitly to enunciate sense and reflection as 
the two sources of our knowledge; for I can show that this had been 
done in a far more philosophical manner by some of the schoolmen ; 



92 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

They differed with regard to the essence both of mat- 
ter and of mind: the British philosopher holding, that the 
real essence of both is beyond the reach of human knowl- 
edge; the other conceiving, that the very essence of 
mind consists in thought, and that of matter in extension, 
by which he made matter and space not to differ in real- 
ity, and no part of space to be void of matter. 

Mr. Locke explained, more distinctly than had been 
done before, the operations of the mind in classing the 
various objects of thought, and reducing them to genera 
and species. He was the first, I think, who distinguish- 
ed in substances what he calls the nominal essence, which 
is only the notion we form of a genus or species, and 
which we express by a definition, from the real essence 
or internal constitution of the thing, which makes it to be 
what it is.* Without this distinction, the subtile disputes 
which tortured the schoolmen for so many ages, in the 
controversy between the nominalists and realists, could 
never be brought to an issue. He shows distinctly how 
we form abstract and general notions, and the use and ne- 
cessity of them in reasoning. And as (according to the 
received principles of philosophers) every notion of our 
mind must have for its object an idea in the mind itself, he 
thinks that we form abstract ideas by leaving out of the 
idea of an individual every thing wherein it differs from 
other individuals of the same species or genus; and that 
this power of forming abstract ideas is that which chiefly 
distinguishes us from brute animals, in whom he could see 
no evidence of any abstract ideas. 

Since the time of Descartes, philosophers have dif- 
fered much with regard to the share they ascribe to the 
mind itself in the fabrication of those representative beings 
called ideas, and the manner in which this work is car- 
ried on. 

Of the authors I have met with, Dr. Robert Hook is 
the most explicit. He was one of the most ingenious and 
active members of the Royal Society of London at its 

reflection with them not being merely, as with Locke, a source of ad- 
ventitious, empirical, or a posteriori knowledge, but the mean by which 
we disclose also the native or a priori cognitions which the intellect it- 
self contains. — H. 
* Locke has no originality in this respect. — H. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LOCKE. 93 

first institution; and frequently read lectures to the Soci- 
ety, which were published among his posthumous works. 
In his Lectures upon Light, § 7, he makes ideas to be 
material substances; and thinks that the brain is furnished 
with a proper kind of matter for fabricating the ideas of 
each sense. The ideas of sight, he thinks, are formed of 
a kind of matter resembling the Bononian stone, or some 
kind of phosphorus; that the ideas of sound are formed of 
some matter resembling the chords or glasses which take 
a sound from the vibrations of the air; and so of the rest. 

The soul, he thinks, may fabricate some hundreds of 
those ideas in a day; and that, as they are formed, they 
are pushed farther off from the centre of the brain, where 
the soul resides. By this means, they make a continued 
chain of ideas, coiled up in the brain, the first end of 
which is farthest removed from the centre or seat of the 
soul; and the other end is always at the centre, being the 
last idea formed, which is always present the moment 
when considered: and therefore, according as there is a 
greater number of ideas between the present sensation or 
thought in the centre and any other, the soul is apprehen- 
sive of a larger portion of time interposed. 

Mr. Locke has not entered into so minute a detail of 
this manufacture of ideas; but he ascribes to the mind a 
very considerable hand in forming its own ideas. With 
regard to our sensations, the mind is passive, " they being 
produced in us only by different degrees and modes of 
motion in our animal spirits, variously agitated by exter- 
nal objects." These, however, cease to be, as soon as 
they cease to be perceived; but, by the faculties of mem- 
ory and imagination, "the mind has an ability, when it 
wills, to revive them again, and, as it were, to paint them 
anew upon itself, though some with more, some with less 
difficulty." 

As to the ideas of reflection, he ascribes them to no 
other cause but to that attention which the mind is capa- 
ble of giving to its own operations: these, therefore, are 
formed by the mind itself. He ascribes likewise to the 
mind the power of compounding its simple ideas into 
complex ones of various forms; of repeating them, and 
adding the repetitions together; of dividing and classing 



94 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

them; of comparing them, and, from that comparison, of 
forming the ideas of their relation: nay, of forming a gen- 
eral idea of a species or genus, by taking from the idea of 
an individual every thing by which it is distinguished from 
other individuals of the kind, till at last it becomes an ab- 
stract general idea, common to all the individuals of the 
kind. 

The ideas we have of the various qualities of bodies 
are not all, as Mr. Locke thinks, of the same kind. Some 
of them are images or resemblances of what is really in 
the body; others are not. There are certain qualities 
inseparable from matter; such as extension, solidity, fig- 
ure, mobility. Our ideas of these are real resemblances 
of the qualities in the body ; and these he calls primary 
qualities: but color, sound, taste, smell, heat, and cold he 
calls secondary qualities, and thinks that they are only pow- 
ers in bodies of producing certain sensations in us; which 
sensations have nothing resembling them, though they are 
commonly thought to be exact resemblances of something 
in the body.* " Thus," says he, " the ideas of heat or 
light, which we receive, by our eye or touch, from the 
sun, are commonly thought real qualities existing in the 
sun, and something more than mere powers in it." 

Perhaps it was unfortunate for Mr. Locke that he 
used the word idea so very frequently, as to make it very 
difficult to give the attention necessary to put it always to 
the same meaning. And it appears evident, that, in many 
places, he means nothing more by it than the notion or 
conception we have of any object of thought; that is, the 
act of the mind in conceiving it, and not the object con- 
ceived. f 

* Locke only gave a new meaning to old terms. The first and second, 
or the primary and secondary qualities of Aristotle, denoted a distinc- 
tion similar to, but not identical with, that in question. Locke distin- 
guished nothing which had not been more precisely discriminated by 
Aristotle and the Cartesians. — H. 

t When we contemplate a triangle, we may consider it either as a 
complement of three sides or of three angles ; not that the three sides 
and the three angles are possible except through each other, but because 
we may in thought view the figure — qua triangle, in reality one and 
indivisible — in different relations. In like manner, we may consider a 
representative act of knowledge in two relations, — 1st, as an act repre- 
sentative of something, and, 2d, as an act cognitive of that representation, 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LOCKE. 95 

In explaining this word, he says that he uses it for 
whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, species. Here 
are three synonymes to the word idea. The first and last 
are very proper to express the philosophical meaning of 
the word, being terms of art in the Peripatetic philosophy, 
and signifying images of external things in the mind, 
which, according to that philosophy, are objects of 
thought. But the word notion is a word in common 
language, whose meaning agrees exactly with the popular 
meaning of the word idea, but not with the philosophical. 

When these two different meanings of the word idea 
are confounded in a studjed explication of it, there is little 
reason to expect that they should be carefully distinguish- 
ed in the frequent use of it. There are many passages in 
the essay, in which, to make them intelligible, the word 
idea must be taken in one of those senses, and many 
others, in which it must be taken in the other. It seems 
probable, that the author, not attending to this ambiguity 
of the word, used it in the one sense or the other, as the 
subject-matter required; and the far greater part of his 
readers have done the same. 

There is a third sense in which he uses the word not 
unfrequently, to signify objects of thought that are not in 
the mind, but external. Of this he seems to be sensible, 
and somewhere makes an apology for it. When he af- 
firms, as he does in innumerable places, that all human 

although, in truth, these are both only one indivisible energy, — the 
representation only existing as known, the cognition being only pos- 
sible in a representation. Thus, e. g., in the imagination of a Centaur, 
the Centaur represented is the Centaur known, the Centaur known is 
the Centaur represented. It is one act under two relations, — a rela- 
tion to the subject knowing, — a relation to the object represented. But 
to a cognitive act considered in these several relations we may give 
either different names, or we may confound them under one, or we 
may do both : and this is actually done; some words expressing only 
one relation, others both or either, and others properly one, but abu- 
sively also the other. Thus idea properly denotes an act of thought 
considered in relation to an external something beyond the sphere of 
consciousness, — a representation; but some philosophers, as Locke, 
abuse it to comprehend the thought also, viewed as cognitive of this 
representation. Again, perception, notion, conception, fyc, (concept is, 
unfortunately, obsolete,) comprehend both, or may be used to denote 
either of the relations; and it is only by the context that we can ever 
vaguely discover in which application they are intended. This is un- 
fortunate ; but so it is. — H. 



96 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

knowledge consists in the perception of the agreement or 
disagreement of our ideas, it is impossible to put a mean- 
ing upon this, consistent with his principles, unless he 
means by ideas every object of human thought, whether 
mediate or immediate; every thing, in a word, that can be 
signified by the subject or by the predicate of a propo- 
sition. 

Thus we see that the word idea has three different 
meanings in the essay; and the author seems to have used 
it sometimes in one, sometimes in another, without being 
aware of any change in the meaning. The reader slides 
easily into the same fallacy, that meaning occurring most 
readily to his mind which gives the best sense to what he 
reads. I have met with persons professing no slight ac- 
quaintance with the Essay concerning Human Under- 
standing, who maintained that the word idea, wherever it 
occurs, means nothing more than thought; and that where 
he speaks of ideas as images in the mind, and as objects 
of thought, he is not to be understood as speaking prop- 
erly, but figuratively or analogically: and, indeed, I appre- 
hend that it would be no small advantage to many pas- 
sages in the book, if they could admit of this interpre- 
tation. 

It is not the fault of this philosopher alone to have 
given too 'little attention to the distinction between the 
operations of the mind, and the objects of those opera- 
tions. Although this distinction be familiar to the vulgar, 
and found in the structure of all languages, philosophers, 
when they speak of ideas, often confound the two togeth- 
er; and their theory concerning ideas has led them to do 
so; for ideas being supposed to be a shadowy kind of be- 
ings, intermediate between the thought and the object of 
thought, sometimes seem to coalesce with the thought, 
sometimes with the object of thought, and sometimes to 
have a distinct existence of their own. 

The same philosophical theory of ideas has led philos- 
ophers to confound the different operations of the under- 
standing, and to call them all by the name of perception.* 

* No more than by calling them all by the name of cognitions, or acts 
of consciousness. There was no reason, either from etymology or 
usage, why perception should not signify the energy of immediately ap- 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. LOCKE. 97 

Mr. Locke, though not free from this fault, is not so often 
chargeable with it as some who came after him. The 
vulgar give the name of perception to that immediate 
knowledge of external objects which we have by our ex- 
ternal senses. This is its proper meaning in our lan- 
guage, though sometimes it may be applied to other things 
metaphorically or analogically. When I think of any 
thing that does not exist, as of the republic of Oceana, I 
do not perceive it; I only conceive or imagine it.* When 
I think of what happened to me yesterday, I do not per- 
ceive, but remember it. When I am pained with the 
gout, it is not proper to say I perceive the pain ; I feel 
it, or am conscious of it.f It is not an object of percep- 
tion, but of sensation and of consciousness. So far, the 
vulgar distinguish very properly the different operations of 
the mind, and never confound the names of things so dif- 
ferent in their nature. But the theory of ideas leads phi- 
losophers to conceive all those operations to be of one 
nature, and to give them one name. They are all, ac- 
cording to that theory, the perception of ideas in the 
mind. Perceiving, remembering, imagining, being con- 
scious, are all perceiving ideas in the mind, and are called 
perceptions. Hence it is that philosophers speak of the 
perceptions of memory and the perceptions of imagina- 
tion. They make sensation to be a perception; and 
every thing we perceive by our senses, to be an idea of 
sensation. Sometimes they say, that they are conscious 



prehending, in general; and until Reid limited the word to our appre- 
hension of an external world, it was, in fact, employed by philosophers 
as tantamount to an act of consciousness. We were in need of a word 
to express our sensitive cognitions as distinct from our sensitive feelings, 
(for the term sensation involved both,) and therefore Reid's restriction 
should be adopted; but his criticism of other philosophers for their 
employment of the term in a wider meaning is wholly groundless. — H. 

* And why? Simply because we do not, by such an act, know or 
apprehend such an object to exist, which is what perception, in its wider 
acceptation, was used to denote ; we merely represent the object. We 
could say, however, that we perceived (as we could say that we were 
conscious of) the republic of Oceana, as imagined by us, after Harring- 
ton. — H. 

1 Because the feeling of pain, though only possible through conscious- 
ness, is not an act of knoicledge. But it could have been properly 
said, I perceive a feeling of pain. At any rate, the expression I perceive 
a pain is as correct as / am conscious of a vain. — H. 

9 



98 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

of the ideas in their own minds ; sometimes, that they per- 
ceive them. 

However improbable it may appear that philosophers, 
who have taken pains to study the operations of their own 
minds, should express them less properly and less dis- 
tinctly than the vulgar, it seems really to be the case; and 
the only account that can be given of this strange phe- 
nomenon I take to be this: that the vulgar seek no theory 
to account for the operations of their minds; they know 
that they see, and hear, and remember, and imagine; and 
those who think distinctly will express these operations 
distinctly, as their consciousness represents them to the 
mind. But philosophers think they ought to know, not 
only that there are such operations, but how they are per- 
formed; how they see, and hear, and remember, and 
imagine; and, having invented a theory to explain these 
operations, by ideas or images in the mind, they suit their 
expressions to their theory; and, as a false comment 
throws a cloud upon the text, so a false theory darkens 
the phenomena which it attempts to explain.* 

VIII. Berkeley's Theory.] George Berkeley, f after- 
wards Bishop of Cloyne, published his JVeio Theory of 
Vision in 1709; his Treatise concerning the Principles of 

* An authentic and ample, but ill-digested and unsatisfactory Life of 
John Locke, with Extracts from his Correspondence, Journals, and Com- 
monplace Books, was published by Lord King (2d ed., 2 vols., 8vo, 
London, 1830). The best and most complete edition of his works is 
that in 10 vols., Svo, London, 1801, and again in 1810. The criticisms 
and polemics to which his writings have given rise are innumerable, of 
which the following may be referred to as being among the most recent 
and remarkable : — De Maistre, Les Soir6e.s de Saint- Petersbourge, Six- 
ieme Entretien. Cousin, Hlstoire dc la Philosophic du XVHI e Siecle, 
Tome II.; of this we have an English translation by Professor Henry, 
Elements of Psychology : included in a Critical Examination of Locke s 
Essay on the Human Understanding (3d ed., ]2mo, New York, 1842). 
Tennemann's Jlbh. fiber den Empirismus in der Philosophic, vorziloiich 
den Lockischen, inserted in the third volume of his German translation 
of Locke's Essay. Hallam's Literature of Europe, from 1650 to 1700, 
Chap. III. Morell's Hist, and Crit. View of Speculative Philosophy, 
Part I. Chap. I. Sect. II. Compare what Stewart says of Locke, in the 
first of his Philosophical Essays, with what he says of him in his Dis- 
sertation, Part II. Sect. I. and II. — Ed. 

t Born at Kilerin,in the county of Kilkenny, March 12, 1684, and 
died at Oxford, January 14, 1753, whither he had repaired a few 
months before to superintend the education of one of his sons. — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 99 

Human Knowledge, in 1710 ; and his Dialogues between 
Hylas and Philonous, in 1713; being then a Fellow of 
Trinity College, Dublin. He is acknowledged univer- 
sally to have great merit, as an excellent writer, and a 
very acute and clear reasoner on the most abstract, sub- 
jects, not to speak of his virtues as a man, which were 
very conspicuous; yet the doctrine chiefly held forth in 
the treatises above mentioned, especially in the two last, 
has generally been thought so very absurd, that few can 
be brought to think either that he believed it himself, 
or that he seriously meant to persuade others of its 
truth. 

He maintains, and thinks he has demonstrated, by a 
variety of arguments, grounded on principles of philos- 
ophy universally received, that there is no such thing as 
matter in the universe; that sun and moon, earth and sea, 
our own bodies, and those of our friends, are nothing but 
ideas in the minds of those who think of them, and that 
they have no existence when they are not the objects of 
thought; that all that is in the universe may be reduced to 
two categories, — -to wit, minds, and ideas in the mind. 

But however absurd this doctrine might appear to the 
unlearned, who consider the existence of the objects of 
sense as the most evident of all truths, and what no man 
in his senses can doubt, the philosophers, who had been 
accustomed to consider ideas as the immediate objects of 
all thought, had no title to view this doctrine of Berkeley 
in so unfavorable a light. 

They were taught by Descartes, and by all that came 
after him, that the existence of the objects of sense is not 
self-evident, but requires to be proved by arguments; and 
although Descartes, and many others, had labored to 
find arguments for this purpose, there did not appear to be 
that force and clearness in them which might have been 
expected in a matter of such importance. Mr. Norris 
had declared, that, after all the arguments that had been 
offered, the existence of an external world is only prob- 
able, but by no means certain. Malebranche thought it 
rested upon the authority of revelation, and that the argu- 
ments drawn from reason were not perfectly conclusive. 
Others thought, that the argument from revelation was a 



100 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

mere sophism, because revelation comes to us by our 
senses, and must rest upon their authority. 

Thus we see that the new philosophy had been making 
gradual approaches towards Berkeley's opinion; and, 
whatever others might do, the philosophers had no title to 
look upon it as absurd, or unworthy of a fair examination. 
Several authors attempted to answer his arguments, but 
with little success, and others acknowledged that they 
could neither answer them nor assent to them. It is 
probable the Bishop made but few converts to his doctrine; 
but it is certain he made some; and that he himself con- 
tinued, to the end of his life, firmly persuaded, not only of 
its truth, but of its great importance for the improvement 
of human knowledge, and especially for the defence of re- 
ligion. Dial. Pref " If the principles which I here en- 
deavour to propagate are admitted for true, the conse- 
quences which I think evidently flow from thence are, 
that atheism and skepticism will be utterly destroyed, 
many intricate points made plain, great difficulties solved, 
several useless parts of science retrenched, speculation 
referred to practice, and men reduced from paradoxes to 
common sense." 

In the Theory of Vision he goes no farther than to as- 
sert, that the objects of sight are nothing but ideas in the 
mind, granting, or at least not denying, that there is a 
tangible world, which is really external, and which exists 
whether we perceive it or not. Whether the reason of 
this was, that his system had not, at that time, wholly 
opened to his own mind, or whether he thought it pru- 
dent to let it enter into the minds of his readers by de- 
grees, I cannot say. I think he insinuates the last as the 
reason in the Principles of Human Knotcledge. 

The Theory of Vision, however, taken by itself, and 
without relation to the main branch of his system, contains 
very important discoveries, and marks of great genius. 
He distinguishes, more accurately than any that went be- 
fore him, between the immediate objects of sight, and 
those of the other senses which are early associated with 
them: he shows, that distance, of itself, and immediately, 
is not seen; but that we learn to judge of it by certain 
sensations and perceptions which are connected with it. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 101 

This is a very important observation; and I believe was 
first made by 4his author.* It gives much new light to 
the operations of our senses, and serves to account for 
many phenomena in optics, of which the greatest adepts 
in that science had always either given a false account, or 
acknowledged that they could give none at all. 

We may observe by the way, that the ingenious author 
seems not to have attended to a distinction by which his 
general assertion ought to have been limited. It is true 
that the distance of an object from the eye is not immedi- 
ately seen ; but there is a certain kind of distance of one 
object from another which we see immediately. The 
author acknowledges that there are a visible extension and 
visible figures, which are proper objects of sight ; there 
must therefore be a visible distance. Astronomers call 
it angular distance ; and although they measure it by the 
angle which is made by two lines drawn from the eye to 
the two distant objects, yet it is immediately perceived by 
sight, even by those who never thought of that angle. 

He led the way in showing how we learn to perceive 
the distance of an object from the eye, though this specu- 
lation was carried farther by others who came after him. 
He made the distinction between that extension and figure 
which we perceive by sight only, and that which we per- 
ceive by touch ; calling the first visible, the last, tangible 
extension and figure. He showed, likewise, that tangible 
extension, and not visible, is the object of geometry, 
although mathematicians commonly use visible diagrams 
in their demonstrations.! 

The notion of extension and figure which we get from 
sight only, and that which we get from touch, have been 
so constantly conjoined from our infancy in all the judg- 
ments we. form of the objects of sense, that it required 
great abilities to distinguish them accurately, and to assign 
to each sense what truly belongs to it ; " so difficult a 
thing it is," as Berkeley justly observes, " to dissolve a 
union so early begun, and confirmed by so long a habit." 

* This last statement is inaccurate. — H. 

t Properly speaking, it is neither tangible nor visible extension which 
is the object of geometry, but intelligible, -pure, or a priori extension. 
But of this distinction more hereafter. — H. 

9* 



102 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

This point he has labored, through the whole of the essay- 
on vision, with that uncommon penetration and judgment 
which he possessed, and with as great success as could 
be expected in a first attempt upon so abstruse a sub- 
ject. 

In the new philosophy, the pillars by which the exist- 
ence of a material world was supported were so feeble, 
that it did not require the force of a Samson to bring 
them down ; and in this we have not so much reason to 
admire the strength of Berkeley's genius, as his boldness 
in publishing to the world an opinion, which the unlearned 
would be apt to interpret as the sign of a crazy intellect. 
A man who was firmly persuaded of the doctrine univer- 
sally received by philosophers concerning ideas, if he 
could but take courage to call in question the existence of 
a material world, would easily find unanswerable argu- 
ments in that doctrine. " Some truths there are," says 
Berkeley, " so near and obvious to the mind, that a man 
need only open his eyes to see them. Such," he adds, 
" I take this important one to be, that all the choir of 
heaven, and furniture of the earth ; in a word, all those 
bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world ; 
have not any subsistence without a mind." — Princ, Sect. 
VI. 

The principle from which this important conclusion is 
Principles of Knoivledge as evident ; and, indeed, it had 
obviously deduced, is laid down in the first sentence of his 
always been acknowledged by philosophers. " It is evi- 
dent," says he, " to any one who takes a survey of the 
objects of human knowledge, that they are either ideas 
actually imprinted on the senses, or else such as are per- 
ceived, by attending to the passions and operations of the 
mind ; or, lastly, ideas formed by help of memoiy and 
imagination, either compounding, dividing, or barely rep- 
resenting those originally perceived in the foresaid ways." 

This is the foundation on which the whole system 
rests. If this be true, then, indeed, the existence of a 
material world must be a dream that has imposed upon all 
mankind from the beginning of the world. 

The foundation on which such a fabric rests ought to 
be very solid, and well established ; yet Berkeley says 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 103 

nothing more for it than that " it is evident." If he means 
that it is self-evident , this, indeed, might be a good reason 
for not offering any direct argument in proof of it. But 
I apprehend this cannot justly be said. Self-evident 
propositions are those which appear evident to every man 
of sound understanding, who apprehends the meaning of 
them distinctly, and attends to them without prejudice. 
Can this be said of this proposition, that all the objects 
of our knowledge are ideas in our own minds 9 * I be- 

* To the idealist, it is of perfect indifference whether this proposi- 
tion, in Reid's sense of the expression ideas, be admitted, or whether 
it be held that we are conscious of nothing but of the modifications of 
our own minds. For on the supposition that we can know the non-ego 
only in and through the ego, it follows, (since we can know nothing 
immediately of which we are not conscious, and it being allowed that 
we are conscious only of mind,) that it is contradictory to suppose 
aught, as known, (i. e. any object of knowledge,) to be known other- 
wise than as a phenomenon of mind. — H. 

In another connection, Sir W. Hamilton had said, that we might give 
up the supposition of the existence of ideas as tertia qucedam, distinct 
at once from the material object and the immaterial subject, and yet be 
unable to confute the modern doctrine of egoistical idealism, which is 
founded on the doctrine, " that all our knowledge is merely subjective, 
or of the mind itself; that the ego has no immediate cognizance of a 
non-ego as existing, but that the non-ego is only represented to us in a 
modification of the self-conscious ego. This doctrine being admitted, 
the idealist has only to show that the supposition of a non-ego, or ex- 
ternal world really existent, is a groundless and unnecessary assump- 
tion ; for, while the law of parcimony prohibits the multiplication of 
substances or causes beyond what the phenomena require, we have 
manifestly no right to postulate for the non-ego the dignity of an inde- 
pendent substance beyond the ego, seeing that this non-ego is, ex hy- 
pothesi, known to us, consequently exists for us, only as a phenomenon 
of the ego." Hence he argues that the Scotch philosophers, including 
Reid, did not go far enough ; for their doctrine respecting the mere 
suggestion of extension, on occasion of certain sensations, involves the 
very groundwork on which modern idealism reposes. " All our knowl- 
edge of the non-ego is thus rendered merely ideal and mediate ; we have 
no knowledge of any really objective reality, except through a subjec- 
tive representation or notion ; in other words, we are only immediately 
cognizant of certain modes of our own minds, and, in and through 
them, mediately warned of the phenomena of the material universe." 
Taking this position, even the argument from common sense against 
idealism becomes unavailing; for " the common sense of mankind only 
assures us of the existence of an external and extended world, in assur- 
ing us that we are conscious, not merely of the phenomena of mind in 
relation to matter, but of the phenomena of matter in relation to mind, 
— in other words, that we are immediately percipient of extended 
things." Reid himself, he says, seems to have become obscurely 
aware of this condition, and to have accommodated his later views to 
it. — Ed. 



104 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

lieve, that, to an}' man uninstructed in philosophy, this 
proposition will appear very improbable, if not absurd. 
However scanty his knowledge may be, he considers the 
sun and moon, the earth and sea, as objects of it : and it 
will be difficult to persuade him, that those objects of his 
knowledge are ideas in his own mind, and have no exist- 
ence when he does not think of them. If I may pre- 
sume to speak my own sentiments, 1 once believed this 
doctrine of ideas so firmly, as to embrace the whole of 
Berkeley's system in consequence of it; till,* finding 
other consequences to follow from it, which gave me 
more uneasiness than the want of a material world, it 
came into my mind, more than forty years ago, to put the 
question, What evidence have I for this doctrine, that all 
the objects of my knowledge are ideas in my own mind ? 
From that time to the present, I have been candidly and 
impartially, as I think, seeking for the evidence of this 
principle, but can find none, excepting the authority of 
philosophers. 

Berkeley foresaw the opposition that would be made 
to his system, from two different quarters : first, from the 
philosophers ; and, secondly, from the vulgar, who are led 
by the plain dictates of nature. The first he had the 
courage to oppose openly and avowedly ; the second he 
dreaded much more, and therefore takes a great deal of 
pains, and, I think, uses some art, to court into his party. 
This is particularly observable in his Dialogues. He 
sets out with a declaration, Dial. 1, " That, of late, he 
had quitted several of the sublime notions he had got in 
the schools of the philosophers for vulgar opinions," 
and assures Hylas, his fellow-dialogist, " That, since this 
revolt from metaphysical notions to the plain dictates of 
nature and common sense, he found his understanding 
strangely enlightened ; so that he could now easily com- 
prehend a great many things, which before were all mys- 
tery and riddle." Pref. to Dial., " If his principles are 
admitted for true, men will be reduced from paradoxes to 
common sense." At the same time, he acknowledges, 
" That they carry with them a great opposition to the 
prejudices of philosophers, which have so far prevailed 
against the common sense and natural notions of man- 
kind." 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 105 

When Hylas objects to him, Dial. 3, " You can never 
persuade me, Philonous, that the denying of matter or 
corporeal substance is not repugnant to the universal sense 
of mankind " ; he answers, "I wish both our opinions 
were fairly stated, and submitted to the judgment of men 
who had plain common sense, without the prejudices of 
a learned education. Let me be represented as one who 
trusts his senses, who thinks he knows the things he sees 
and feels, and entertains no doubt of their existence. If 
by material substance is meant only sensible body, that 
which is seen and felt, (and the un philosophical part of 
the world, I dare say, mean no more,) then I am more 
certain of matter's existence than you or any other phi- 
losopher pretend to be. If there be any thing which 
makes the generality of mankind averse from the notions 
I espouse, it is a misapprehension that I deny the reality 
of sensible things : but as it is you who are guilty of that, 
and not I, it follows, that, in truth, their aversion is 
against your notions, and not mine. I am content to 
appeal to the common sense of the world for the truth of 
my notion. I am of a vulgar cast, simple enough to be- 
lieve my senses, and to leave things as I find them. I 
cannot, for my life, help thinking that snow is white, and 
fire hot." 

When Hylas is at last entirely converted, he observes 
to Philonous, " After all, the controversy about matter, 
in the strict acceptation of it, lies altogether between you 
and the philosophers, whose principles, I acknowledge, 
are not near so natural, or so agreeable to the common 
sense of mankind, and Holy Scripture, as yours." Phi- 
lonous observes in the end, " That he does not pretend 
to be a setter up of new notions ; his endeavours tend only 
to unite, and to place in a clearer light, that truth which 
was before shared between the vulgar and the philoso- 
phers ; the former being of opinion, that those things 
they immediately perceive are the real things, and the 
latter, that the things immediately perceived are ideas 
which exist only in the mind ; which two things put to- 
gether do, in effect, constitute the substance of what he 
advances." And he concludes by observing, " That 
those principles which at first view lead to skepticism, 



106 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

pursued to a certain point, bring men back to common 
sense." 

These passages show sufficiently the author's concern 
to reconcile his system to the plain dictates of nature and 
common sense, while he expresses no concern to recon- 
cile it to the received doctrines of philosophers. He is 
fond to take part with the vulgar against the philosophers, 
and to vindicate common sense against their innovations. 
What pity is it that he did not carry this suspicion of the 
doctrine of philosophers so far as to doubt of that philo- 
sophical tenet on which his whole system is built, — to 
wit, that the things immediately perceived by the senses 
are ideas which exist only in the mind ! 

After all, it seems no easy matter to make the vulgar 
opinion and that of Berkeley to meet. And to accom- 
plish this, he seems to me to draw each out of its line 
towards the other, not without some straining. The vul- 
gar opinion he reduces to this, that the very things which 
we perceive by our senses do really exist. This he 
grants. For these things, says he, are ideas in our minds, 
or complexions of ideas, to ivhich we give one name, and 
consider as one thing ; these are the immediate objects of 
sense, and these do really exist. As to the notion, that 
those things have an absolute external existence, indepen- 
dent of being perceived by any mind, he thinks that this 
is no notion of the vulgar, but a refinement of philoso- 
phers ; and that the notion of material substance, as a 
substratum, or support of that collection of sensible qual- 
ities to which we give the name of an apple or a melon, 
is likewise an invention of philosophers, and is not found 
with the vulgar till they are instructed by philosophers. 
The substance not being an object of sense, the vulgar 
never think of it ; or, if they are taught the use of the 
word, they mean no more by it but that collection of sensi- 
ble qualities which they, from finding them conjoined in 
nature, have been accustomed to call by one name, and 
to consider as one thing. 

Thus he draws the vulgar opinion near to his own ; 
and, that he may meet it half way, he acknowledges that 
material things have a real existence out of the mind of 
this or that person ; but the question, says he, between 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 107 

the materialist and me is, Whether they have an abso- 
lute existence distinct from their being perceived by God, 
and exterior to all minds ? This, indeed, he says, some 
heathens and philosophers have affirmed ; but whoever 
entertains notions of the Deity suitable to the Holy 
Scripture will be of another opinion. 

But here an objection occurs, which it required all his 
ingenuity to answer. It is this. The ideas in my mind 
cannot be the same with the ideas of any other mind ; 
therefore if the objects I perceive be only ideas, it is im- 
possible that the objects I perceive can exist anyichere 
when I do not perceive them ; and it is impossible that 
two or more minds can perceive the same object. 

To this Berkeley answers, that this objection presses 
no less the opinion of the materialist philosopher than his. 
But the difficulty is, to make his opinion coincide with 
the notions of the vulgar, who are firmly persuaded that 
the very identical objects which they perceive continue to 
exist when they do not perceive them ; and who are no 
less firmly persuaded, that, when ten men look at the sun 
or the moon, they all see the same individual object. 

To reconcile this repugnancy, he observes, Dial. 3, 
" That if the term same be taken in the vulgar accepta- 
tion, it is certain, (and not at all repugnant to the princi- 
ples he maintains,) that different persons may perceive 
the same thing ; or the same thing or idea exist in differ- 
ent minds. Words are of arbitrary imposition ; and 
since men are used to applythe word same where no 
distinction or variety is perceived, and he does not pre- 
tend to alter their perceptions, it follows, that as men have 
said before, Several saw the same thing, so they may, 
upon like occasions, still continue to use the same phrase, 
without any deviation either from propriety of language 
or the truth of things. But if the term same be used in 
the acceptation of philosophers, who pretend to an ab- 
stracted notion of identity, then, according to their sundry 
definitions of this term, (for it is not yet agreed wherein 
that philosophic identity consists,) it may or may not be 
possible for divers persons to perceive the same thing ; 
but whether philosophers shall think fit to call a thing the 
same or no, is, I conceive, of small importance. Men 



108 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

may dispute about identity and diversity, without any real 
difference in their thoughts and opinions, abstracted from 
names." 

Upon the whole, I apprehend that Berkeley has carried 
this attempt to reconcile his system to the vulgar opinion 
farther than reason supports him : and he was no doubt 
tempted to do so from a just apprehension that, in a con- 
troversy of this kind, the common sense of mankind is 
the most formidable antagonist. 

Berkeley has employed much pains and ingenuity to 
show that his system, if received and believed, would 
not be attended with those bad consequences in the con- 
duct of life which superficial thinkers may be apt to im- 
pute to it. His system does not take away or make any 
alteration upon our pleasures or our pains : our sensations, 
whether agreeable or disagreeable, are the same upon his 
system as upon any other. These are real things, and 
the only things that interest us. They are produced in 
us according to certain laws of nature, by which our con- 
duct will be directed in attaining the one, and avoiding 
the other : and it is of no moment to us whether they 
are produced immediately by the operation of some pow- 
erful intelligent being upon our minds, or by the mediation 
of some inanimate being which we call matter. 

The evidence of an All-governing Mind, so far from 
being weakened, seems to appear even in a more striking 
light upon his hypothesis than upon the common one. 
The powers which inanimate matter is supposed to pos- 
sess have always been the stronghold of atheists, to 
which they had recourse in defence of their system. This 
fortress of atheism must be most effectually overturned, 
if there is no such thing as matter in the universe. In all 
this the Bishop reasons justly and acutely. But there is 
one uncomfortable consequence of his system which he 
seems not to have attended to, and from which it will be 
found difficult, if at all possible, to guard it. 

The consequence I mean is this, — that although it 
leaves us sufficient evidence of a supreme intelligent 
mind, it seems to take away all the evidence we have of 
other intelligent beings like ourselves. What I call a 
father, a brother, or a friend, is only a parcel of ideas in 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. 109 

my own mind ; and being ideas in my mind, they cannot 
possibly have that relation to another mind which they 
have to mine, any more than the pain felt by me can be 
the individual pain felt by another. I can find no princi- 
ple in Berkeley's system which affords me even probable 
ground to conclude that there are other intelligent beings, 
like myself, in the relations of father, brother, friend, or 
fellow-citizen. I am left alone, as the only creature of 
God in the universe, in that forlorn state of egoism into 
which it is said some of the disciples of Descartes were 
brought by his philosophy. 

But I must take notice of another part of Berkeley's 
system, wherein he seems to have deviated from the com- 
mon opinion about ideas, as regards our evidence of the 
existence of other minds. 

Though he sets out in his Principles of Knowledge by 
telling us that it is evident the objects of human knowl- 
edge are ideas, and builds his whole system upon this 
principle ; yet, in the progress of it, he finds that there 
are certain objects of human knowledge that are not ideas, 
but things which have a permanent existence. The ob- 
jects of knowledge, of which we have no ideas, are our 
own minds, and their various operations, other finite 
minds, and the Supreme Mind. The reason why there 
can be no ideas of spirits and their operations, the author 
informs us, is this, — that ideas are passive, inert, un- 
thinking beings ; they cannot, therefore, be the image or 
likeness of things that have thought, and will, and active 
power ; we have notions of minds, and of their opera- 
tions, but not ideas. We know what we mean by think- 
ing, willing, and perceiving ; we can reason about beings 
endowed with those powers, but we have no ideas of 
them. A spirit or mind is the only substance or support 
wherein the unthinking beings or ideas can exist ; but 
that this substance which supports or perceives ideas 
should itself be an idea, or like an idea, is evidently ab- 
surd. 

Berkeley foresaw that this might give rise to an objection 
to his system, and puts it in the mouth of Hylas, in the fol- 
lowing words (Dial. 3) : — " If you can conceive the mind 
of God, without having an idea of it, why may not I be al- 
10 



110 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

lowed to conceive the existence of matter, notwithstand- 
ing that I have no idea of it ?" The answer of Philo- 
nous is, — "You neither perceive matter objectively, as 
you do an inactive being or idea, nor know it, as you do 
yourself, by a reflex act, neither do you immediately ap- 
prehend it by similitude of the one or the other, nor yet 
collect it by reasoning from that which you know imme- 
diately. All which makes the case of matter widely dif- 
ferent from that of the Deity." 

Though Hylas declares himself satisfied with this an- 
swer, I confess I am not ; because, if I may trust the 
faculties that God has given me, I do perceive matter 
objectively; that is, something which is extended and solid, 
which may be measured and weighed, is the immediate 
object of my touch and sight. And this object I take to 
be matter, and not an idea. And though I have been 
taught by philosophers that what I immediately touch is 
an idea, and not matter, yet I have never been able to 
discover this by the most accurate attention to my own 
perceptions. 

Of all the opinions that have ever been advanced by 
philosophers, this of- Bishop Berkeley, that there is no 
material world, seems the strangest and the most apt to 
bring philosophy into ridicule with plain men, who are 
guided by the dictates of nature and common sense. 
And it will not, I apprehend, be deemed improper to 
have traced this progeny of the doctrine of ideas from its 
origin, and to have observed its gradual progress, till it 
acquired such strength, that a pious and learned bishop 
had the boldness to usher it into the world, as demonstra- 
ble from the principles of philosophy universally received, 
and as an admirable expedient for the advancement of 
knowledge, and for the defence of religion.* 

* The Works of George Berkeley, D. D., late Bishop of Cloyne, in Ire- 
land. To which is added, Jin Account of his Life, ; and several of his 
Letters to Thomas Prior, Esq., Dean Gervais, Mr. Pope, fyc. (3 vols., 
8vo, London, 1820). Some additional particulars respecting him are 
given under his name in Kippis's edition of the Biographia Britannica. 
Eschenbach published (in 8vo, Rostock, 1756) a German translation 
of the principal works written to disprove the existence of the material 
world (including Berkeley's Dialogues and Collier's Clavis Universalis), 
with notes and a supplement in refutation of the same. See> also, d 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. BERKELEY. Ill 

We ought not, in this historical sketch, to omit an 
author of far inferior name, Arthur Collier, rector of 
Langford Magna, near Sarum. He published a book in 
1713, which he calls Clavis Universalis ; or, a Mew In- 
quiry after Truth ; being a Demonstration of the Non- 
existence or Impossibility of an External World. His 
arguments are the same in substance with Berkeley's ; 
and he appears to understand the whole strength of his 
cause. Though he is not deficient in metaphysical acute- 
ness, his style is disagreeable, being full of conceits, of 
new-coined words, scholastic terms, and perplexed sen- 
tences. He appears to be well acquainted with Descar- 
tes, Malebranche, and Norris, as well as with Aristotle 
and the schoolmen : but, what is very strange, it does not 
appear that he had ever heard of Locke's Essay, which 
had been published twenty-four years, or of Berkeley's 
Principles of Knowledge, which had been published three 
years. 

He says, he had been ten years firmly convinced of the 
non-existence of an external world, before he ventured to 
publish his book. He is far from thinking, as Berkeley 
does, that the vulgar are of his opinion. If his book 
should make any converts to his system, (of which he 
expresses little hope, though he has supported it by 
" nine demonstrations^) he takes pains to show that his 
disciples, notwithstanding their opinion, may, with the un- 
enlightened, speak of material things in the common style. 
He himself had scruples of conscience about this for some 
time ; and if he had not got over them, he must have shut 
his lips for ever : but he considered, that God himself has 
used this style in speaking to men in the Holy Scripture, 
and has thereby sanctified it to all the faithful ; and that 
to the pure all things are pure. He thinks his opinion 
may be of great use, especially in religion ; and applies it, 

Revieio of Berkeley's Theory of Vision designed to show the Unsound- 
ness of that celebrated Speculation. By Samuel Bailey. (8vo, London, 
1842.) The Westminster Revieio, for October, 1842, contains an earnest 
vindication of Berkeley. Two very ingenious articles on the same sub- 
ject, and the philosophy of sensation generally, may be found in Black- 
wood's Magazine, in the numbers for June, 1842, and June, 1843. 
There is also a valuable paper On the Idealism of Berkeley, in Stewart's 
Philosophical Essays. — Ed. 



1 12 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

in particular, to put an end to the controversy about 
Christ's presence in the sacrament. 

I have taken the liberty to give this short account of 
Collier's book, because I believe it is rare, and little 
known. I have only seen one copy of it, which is in the 
University library of Glasgow.* 

IX. Hume's Theory.'] Two volumes of the Treatise 
of Human Nature f were published in 1739, and the 
third in 1740. The doctrine contained in this treatise was 
published anew in a more popular form in Mr. Hume's 
Philosophical Essays, of which there have been various 
editions. What other authors, from the time of Des- 
cartes, had called ideas, this author distinguished into two 
kinds, — to wit, impressions and ideas ; comprehending 
under the first all our sensations, passions, and emotions ; 
and under the last, the faint images of these, when we re- 
member or imagine them. 

He sets out with this, as a principle that needed no 
proof, and of which, therefore, he offers none, — that all 
the perceptions of the human mind . resolve themselves 
into these two kinds, impressions and ideas. As this 
proposition is the foundation upon which the whole of 
Mr. Hume's system rests, and from which it is raised 



* This woi-k, though of extreme rarity, and long absolutely un- 
known to the philosophers of this country, had excited, from the first, 
the attention of the German metaphysicians. A long analysis of it was 
given in the Acta Ervditorum, ; it is found quoted by Bilfinger, and 
other Leibnitzians, and was subsequently translated into German, with 
controversial notes, by Professor Eschenbach, of Rostock, in his Collec- 
tion of the Principal Writers who deny the Reality of their oion Body and 
of the icholc Corporeal World [mentioned in the last note]. — H. 

A small edition of the Clams was published in Edinburgh in 1836, 
and another in a collection of Metaphysical Tracts, hi/ English Philoso- 
phers of the Eighteenth Centvri/ : prepared for the Press Inj the late Rev. 
Samuel Parr, D. D. (8vo, London, 1837). The work is now, there- 
fore, easily accessible to English readers. We also have Memoirs of 
the Life and Writings of the Rev. Arthur Collier. By Robert Benson. 
(8vo, London, 1837.) Collier was born at Langford Magna, in the 
county of Wilts, October 12, 1680, and died, as he had been born, in 
the rectory of that place, which had been nearly a century and a quar- 
ter in the family. The precise day of his death is not known; but he 
was buried in Langford church. September 9, 1732. — Ed. 

t The author, David Hume, was born at Edinburgh, April 26, 1711, 
and died in the same city, August 25, 1776. — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. HUME. 113 

with great acuteness indeed, and ingenuity, it were to be 
wished that he had told us upon what authority this fun- 
damental proposition rests. But we are left to guess, 
whether it is held forth as a first principle, which has its 
evidence in itself; or whether it is to be received upon 
the authority of philosophers. 

Mr. Locke had taught us, that all the immediate ob- 
jects of human knowledge are ideas in the mind. Bishop 
Berkeley, proceeding upon this foundation, demonstrated 
very easily, that there is no material world. And he 
thought, that, for the purposes both of philosophy and 
religion, we should find no loss, but great benefit, in the 
want of it. But the Bishop, as became his order, was un- 
willing to give up the world of spirits. He saw very 
well, that ideas are as unfit to represent spirits as they are 
to represent bodies. Perhaps he saw, that, if we per- 
ceive only the ideas of spirits, we shall find the same dif- 
ficulty in inferring their real existence from the existence 
of their ideas, as we find in inferring the existence of 
matter from the idea of it ; and therefore, while he gives 
up the material world in favor of the system of ideas, he 
gives up one half of that system in favor of the world of 
spirits ; and maintains, that we can, without ideas, think, 
and speak, and reason, intelligibly about spirits, and what 
belongs to them. 

Mr. Hume shows no such partiality in favor of the 
world of spirits. He adopts the theory of ideas in its full 
extent ; and, in consequence, shows that there is neither 
matter nor mind in the universe ; nothing but impressions 
and ideas. What we call a body is only a bundle of 
sensations ; and what we call the mind is only a bundle 
of thoughts, passions, and emotions, without any subject* 

* Dr. Reid had said, in another connection, — " The author of the 
Treatise of Human Nature appears to me to be but a half-skeptic. He 
has not followed his principles so far as they lead him ; but, after 
having, with unparalleled intrepidity and success combated vulgar 
prejudices, when he has but one blow to strike, his courage fails liim ; 
he fairly lays down his arms, and yields himself a captive to the most 
common of all vulgar prejudices, — I mean the belief of the existence 
of his own impressions and ideas. I beg, therefore, to have the honor 
of making an addition to the skeptical system, without which I con- 
ceive it cannot hang together. I affirm, that the belief of the existence 
of impressions and ideas is as little supported by reason, as that of the 
10* 



114 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

Some ages hence, it will perhaps be looked upon as a 
curious anecdote, that two philosophers of the eighteenth 
century, of very distinguished rank, were led by a philo- 
sophical hypothesis, one, to disbelieve the existence of 
matter, and the other, to disbelieve the existence both of 
matter and of mind. Such an anecdote may not be un- 
instructive, if it prove a warning to philosophers to be- 
ware of hypotheses, especially when they lead to conclu- 

existence of minds and bodies." — Inquiry into the Human Mind, 
Chap. V. Sect. VII. 

But to this Sir VV. Hamilton replies: — "In Reid's strictures upon 
Hume, he confounds two opposite things. He reproaches that philos- 
opher with inconsequence, in holding to ' the belief of the existence of 
his own impressions and ideas.' Now, if, by the existence of impres- 
sions and ideas, Reid meant their existence as mere phenomena of con- 
sciousness, his criticism is inept ; for a disbelief of their existence, as 
such phenomena, would have been a suicidal act in the skeptic. Of 
consciousness the skeptic cannot doubt, because such doubt, being itself 
an act of consciousness, would contradict, and, consequently, annihilate 
itself. If, again, he meant by impressions and ideas the hypothesis of 
representative entities different from the mind and its modifications ; in 
that case, the objection is equally invalid. Hume was a skeptic ; that 
is, he accepted the premises afforded him by the dogmatist, and carried 
these premises to their legitimate consequences. To blame Hume, 
therefore, for not having doubted of his borrowed principles, is to blame 
the skeptic for not performing a part altogether inconsistent with his 
vocation. But, in point of fact, the hypothesis of such entities is of no 
value to the idealist or the skeptic. Impressions and ideas, viewed asmen- 
tal modes, would have answered Hume's purpose not a whit worse than 
impressions and ideas, viewed as objects, but not as affections of mind. 
The most consistent scheme of idealism known in the history of phi- 
losophy is that of Fichte ; and Fichte's idealism is founded on a basis 
which excludes that crude hypothesis of ideas on which alone Reid 
imagined any doctrine of idealism could possibly be established. And 
is the acknowledged result of the Fichtean dogmatism less a nihilism 
than the skepticism of Hume ? ' The sum total,' says Fichte, ' is this : 
— There is absolutely nothing permanent either without me, or within 
me, but only an unceasing change. I know absolutely nothing of any 
existence, not even of my own. I myself know nothing, and am noth- 
ing. Images (Bilder) there are: they constitute all that apparently ex- 
ists, and what they know of themselves is after the manner of images ; 
images that pass and vanish without there being aught to witness their 
transition ; that consist, in fact, of the images of images, without signifi- 
cance and without an aim. I myself am one of these images; nay, I 
am not even thus much, but only a confused image of images. All 
reality is converted into a marvellous dream, without a life to dream 
of, and without a mind to dream; — into a dream made up only of a 
dream of itself. Perception is a dream; thought — the source of all 
the existence and all the reality which I imagine to myself of my 
existence, of my power, of my destination — is the dream of that 
dream.' " — Ed. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. — -HUME. 115 

sions which contradict the principles upon which all men 
of common sense must act in common life. 

The Egoists, whom we mentioned before, were left 
far behind by Mr. Hume ; for they believed their own 
existence, and perhaps also the existence of a Deity. 
But Mr. Hume's system does not even leave him a self 
to claim the property of his impressions and ideas. 

A system of consequences, however absurd, acutely 
and justly drawn from a few principles, in very abstract 
matters, is of real utility in science, and may be -made 
subservient to real knowledge. This merit Mr. Hume's 
metaphysical writings have in a great degree. 

We had occasion before to observe, that, since the 
time of Descartes, philosophers, in treating of the pow- 
ers of the mind, have in many instances confounded 
things which the common sense of mankind has always 
led them to distinguish, and which have different names 
in all languages. Thus, in the perception of an external 
object, all languages distinguish three things, the mind 
that perceives, the operation of that mind which is called 
perception, and the object perceived. Nothing appears 
more evident to a mind untutored by philosophy, than 
that these three are distinct things, which, though related, 
ought never to be confounded. The structure of all lan- 
guages supposes ihis distinction, and is built upon it. 
Philosophers have introduced a fourth thing in this pro- 
cess, which they call the idea of the object, which is 
supposed to be an image or representative of the object, 
and is said to be the immediate object. The vulgar 
know nothing about this idea ; it is a creature of philoso- 
phy, introduced to account for, and explain, the manner 
of our perceiving external objects. 

It is pleasant to observe, that while philosophers, for 
more than a century, have been laboring, by means of 
ideas, to explain perception and the other operations of 
the mind, those ideas have by degrees usurped the place 
of perception, object, and even of the mind itself, and 
have supplanted those very things they were brought to 
explain. Descartes reduced all the operations of the un- 
derstanding to perception ; and what can be more natural 
to those who believe that they are only different modes 



116 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

of perceiving ideas in our own minds ? Locke con- 
founds ideas, sometimes with the perception of an exter- 
nal object, sometimes with the external object itself. In 
Berkeley's system, the idea is the only object, and yet 
is often confounded with the perception of it. But in 
Hume's, the idea or the impression, which is only a more 
lively idea, is mind, perception, and object, all in one : 
so that, by the term perception in Mr. Hume's system, 
we must understand the mind itself, all its operations, 
both of understanding and will, and all the objects of 
these operations. Perception taken in this sense he di- 
vides into our more lively perceptions, which he calls 
impressions,* and the less lively, which he calls ideas. 

" We may divide," says Mr. Hume,f " all the per- 
ceptions of the human mind into two classes or species, 
which are distinguished by their different degrees of force 
and vivacity. The less lively and forcible are commonly 
denominated thoughts or ideas. The other species want 
a name in our language, and in most others ; let us there- 
fore use a little freedom, and call them impressions. By 
the term impressions, then, I mean all our more lively 
perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or 
hate, or desire, or will. Ideas are the less lively percep- 
tions, of which we are conscious, when we reflect on any 
of those sensations or movements above mentioned." 
f% When Mr. Hume says, that ice may divide all the per- 
ceptions of the human mind into two classes or species, 
which are distinguished by their degrees of force and vi- 
vacity, the manner of expression is loose and un philo- 
sophical. To differ in species is one thing ; to differ in 
degree is another. Things which differ in degree only 
must be of the same species. It is a maxim of common 

• * Mr. Stewart (Elements, Addenda to Vol. I.) seems to think that the 
word impression was first introduced, as a technical term, into the phi- 
losophy of mind, by Mr. Hume. This is not altogether correct. For, 
besides the instances which Mr. Stewart himself adduces, of the illus- 
tration attempted of the phenomena of memory from the analogy of an 
impress and a trace, words corresponding to impression were among the 
ancients familiarly applied to the processes of external perception, im- 
agination, &c, in the Atomistic, the Platonic, the Aristotelian, and the 
Stoical philosophies ; while, among modern psychologists, (as Descartes 
and Gassendi,) the term was likewise in common use. — H. 
f Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, Sect. II. 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. HUME. 117 

sense, admitted by all men, that greater and less do not 
make a change of species. The same man may differ in 
the degree of his force and vivacity, in the morning and 
at night, in health and in sickness ; but this is so far 
from making him a different species, that it does not so 
much as make him a different individual. To say, there- 
fore, that two different, classes or species of perceptions 
are distinguished by the degrees of their force and viva- 
city, is to confound a difference of degree with a differ- 
ence of species, which every man of understanding knows 
how to distinguish. 

Again, we may object, that this author, having given 
the general name of perception to all the operations of the 
mind, and distinguished them into two classes or species, 
which differ only in degree of force and vivacity, tells us, 
that he gives the name of impressions to all our more 
lively perceptions, — to wit, when we hear, or see, or 
feel, or love, or hate, or desire, or will. There is great 
confusion in this account of the meaning of the word im- 
pression. When I see, this is an impression. But why 
has not the author told us, whether he gives the name of 
impression to the object seen, or to that act of my mind 
by which I see it ? When I see the full moon, the full 
moon is one thing, my perceiving it is another thing. 
Which of these two things does he call an impression ? 
We are left to guess this ; nor does all that this author 
w r rites about impressions clear this point. Every thing 
he says tends to darken it, and to lead us to think that 
the full moon which I see, and my seeing it, are not two 
things, but one and the same thing.* 

* This objection is easily answered. The thing (Hume would say) 
as unknoicn, as unperceived, as beyond the sphere of my consciousness, is 
to me as zero; to that, therefore, I could not refer. As perceived, as 
knoivn, it must be iciithin the sphere of my consciovsness ; but, as philos- 
ophers concur in maintaining that I can only be conscious of my mind 
and its contents, the object, as perceived, must be either a, m,ode of, or 
something contained within, my mind, and to that internal object, as per- 
ceived, I give the name of impression. Nor can the act of perception 
(he would add) be really distinguished from the object perceived. 
Both are only relatives, mutually constituent of the same indivisible 
relation of knowledge ; and to that relation and these relatives I give 
the name of impression, precisely as, in different points of view, the 
term perception is applied to the mind perceiving, to the object per- 
ceived, and to the act of which these are the inseparable constituents. 
This likewise has reference to what follows. — H. 



118 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

The same observation may be applied to every other 
instance the author gives to illustrate the meaning of the 
word impression. " When we hear, when we feel, when 
we love, when we hate, when we desire, when we will." 
In all these acts of the mind there must be an object, 
which is heard, or felt, or loved, or hated, or desired, or 
willed. Thus, for instance, I love my country. This, 
says Mr. Hume, is an impression. But what is the im- 
pression 9 Is it my country, or is it the affection I bear 
to it ? I ask the philosopher this question ; but I find 
no answer to it. And when I read all that he has writ- 
ten on this subject, I find this word impression sometimes 
used to signify an operation of the mind, sometimes the 
object of the operation ; but, for the most part, it is a 
vague and indetermined word that signifies both. 

I know not whether it may be considered as an apolo- 
gy for such abuse of words, in an author who understood 
the language so well, and used it with so great propriety 
in writing on other subjects, that Mr. Hume's system, 
with regard to the mind, required a language of a differ- 
ent structure from the common ; or, if expressed in plain 
English, would have been too shocking to the common 
sense of mankind. To give an instance or two of this : 
If a man receive a present on which he puts a high value, 
if he see and handle it, and put it in his pocket, this, says 
Mr. Hume, is an impression. If the man only dream 
that he received such a present, this is an idea. Where- 
in lies the difference between this impression and this 
idea, — between the dream and the reality ? They are 
different classes or species, says Mr. Hume. So far all 
men will agree with him. But he adds, that they are 
distinguished only by different degrees of force and vi- 
vacity. Here he. insinuates a tenet of his own, in con- 
tradiction to the common sense of mankind. Common 
sense convinces every man, that a lively dream is no 
nearer to a reality than a faint one ; and that if a man 
should dream that he had all the wealth of Croesus, it 
would not put one farthing in his pocket. 

Philosophers have also differed very much with regard 
to the origin of our ideas, or the sources whence they are 
derived. The Peripatetics held, that all knowledge is 



THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. HUME. 119 

derived originally from the senses ; and this ancient doc- 
trine seems to be revived by some late French philoso- 
phers, and by Dr. Hartley and Dr. Priestley among the 
British. Descartes maintained, that many of our ideas 
are innate. Locke opposed the doctrine of innate ideas 
with much zeal, and employs the whole first book of his 
Essay against it. But he admits two different sources of 
ideas : the operations of our external senses, which he 
calls sensation, by which we get all our ideas of body, 
and its attributes ; and reflection upon the operations of 
our minds, by which we get the ideas of every thing be- 
longing to the mind. The main design of the second 
book of Locke's Essay is to show, that all our simple 
ideas, without exception, are derived from the one or the 
other, or both, of these sources. In doing this, the au- 
thor is led into some paradoxes, although, in general, he 
is not fond of paradoxes ; and had he foreseen all the 
consequences that may be drawn from his account of the 
origin of our ideas, he would probably have examined it 
more carefully. 

Mr. Hume adopts Locke's account of the origin of 
our ideas, and from that principle infers, that we have no 
idea of substance corporeal or spiritual, no idea of power, 
no other idea of a cause than that it is something antece- 
dent, and constantly conjoined to that which we call its 
effect ; and, in a word, that we can have no idea of any 
thing but our sensations, and the operations of mind we 
are conscious of. 

This author leaves no power to the mind in framing its 
ideas and impressions ; and no wonder, since he holds 
that we have no idea of pmver ; and the mind is nothing 
but that succession of impressions and ideas of which we 
are intimately conscious. He thinks, therefore, that our 
impressions arise from unknown causes, and that the im- 
pressions are the causes of their corresponding ideas. 
By this he means no more than that they always go before 
the ideas ; for this is all that is necessary to constitute 
the relation of cause and effect. 

-As to the order and succession of our ideas, he holds 
it to be determined by three laws of attraction or associ- 
ation, which he takes to be original properties of the 



120 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

ideas, by which they attract, as it were, or associate 
themselves with other ideas, which either resemble them, 
or which have been contiguous to them in time and place, 
or to which they have the relations of cause and effect. 
We may here observe, by the way, that the last ©f these 
three laws seems to be included in the second, since 
causation, according to him, implies no more than conti- 
guity in time and place. 

It is not my design at present to show how Mr. Hume, 
upon the principles he has borrowed from Locke and 
Berkeley, has, with great acuteness, reared a system of 
absolute skepticism, which leaves no rational ground to 
believe any one proposition, rather than its contrary : my 
intention in this place being only to give a detail of the 
sentiments of philosophers concerning ideas since they 
became an object of speculation, and concerning the man- 
ner of our perceiving external objects by their means.* 



CHAPTER VI. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE COMMON THEORY OF IDEAS. 

I. Statement of the Question.] After so long a detail 
of the sentiments of philosophers, ancient and modern, 
concerning ideas, it may seem presumptuous to call in 
question their existence. But no philosophical opinion, 
however ancient, however generally received, ought to 
rest upon authority. There i« no presumption in requir- 
ing evidence for it, or in regulating our belief by the evi- 
dence we can find. 

* We have a full, authentic, and interesting Life and Correspondence 
of David Hume. By John Hill Burton. (2 vols., 8vo, Edinburgh, 
1846.) There is also an excellent edition of The Philosophical Works 
of David Hume (4 vols., 8vo, Edinburgh, 1826). Some interesting 
notices are given of Hume and his philosophy by Stewart, in his Dis- 
sertation, Part II. Sect. VIII. Jacobi's David Hume, ilber den Glauben, 
oder Idealismus und Realismus (8vo, Breslau, 1787). Kant's Prole- 
gomena ; which has been translated, professedly, into English by Rich- 
ardson (8vo, London, 1819). 

For a statement of Sir W. Hamilton's theory of perception, see Ap- 
pendix. — Ed. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 121 

To prevent mistakes, the reader must again be remind- 
ed, that if by ideas are meant only the acts or operations 
of our minds in perceiving, remembering, or imagining 
objects, I am far from calling in question the existence of 
those acts. We are conscious of them every day and 
every hour of life ; and I believe no man of a sound 
mind ever doubted of the real existence of the operations 
of mind, of which he is conscious. Nor is it to be 
doubted, that, by the faculties which God has given us, 
we can conceive things that are absent, as well as per- 
ceive those that are within the reach of our senses ; and 
that such conceptions may be more or less distinct, and 
more or less lively and strong. We have reason to 
ascribe to the all-knowing and all-perfect Being distinct 
conceptions of all things existent and possible, and of all 
their relations ; and if these conceptions are called his 
eternal ideas, there ought to be no dispute among philoso- 
phers about a word. The ideas, of whose existence I 
require the proof, are not the operations of any mind, but 
supposed objects of those operations. They are not per- 
ception, remembrance, or conception, but things that are 
said to be perceived, or remembered, or imagined. 

Nor do I dispute the existence of what the vulgar call 
the objects of perception. These, by all who acknowl- 
edge their existence, are called real things, not ideas. 
But philosophers maintain, that, besides these, there are 
immediate objects of perception in the mind itself : that, 
for instance, we do not see the sun immediately, but an 
idea, or, as Mr. Hume calls it, an impression, in our 
own minds. This idea is said to be the image, the re- 
semblance, the representative of the sun, if there be a 
sun. It is from the existence of the idea that we must 
infer the existence of the sun. But the idea being imme- 
diately perceived, there can be no doubt, as philosophers 
think, of its existence. 

In like manner, when I remember or when I imagine 
any thing, all men acknowledge that there must be some- 
thing that is remembered, or that is imagined ; that is, 
some object of those operations. The object remem- 
bered must be something that did exist in time past. The 
object imagined may be something that never existed. 
11 



122 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

But, say the philosophers, besides these objects which all 
men acknowledge, there is a more immediate object which 
really exists in the mind at the same time we remember 
or imagine. This object is an idea or image of the thing 
remembered or imagined. 

II. The Common Theory of Ideas opposed by the 
Common Sense of Mankind .] The first reflection I 
would make on this philosophical opinion is, that it is 
directly contrary to the universal sense of men who have 
not been instructed in philosophy. ' 

There is the less need of any further proof of this, 
that it is very amply acknowledged by Mr. Hume, in his 
Essay on the Academical or Skeptical Philosophy.* " It 
seems evident," says he, " that men are carried by a nat- 
ural instinct, or prepossession, to repose faith in their 
senses ; and that without any reasoning, or even almost 
before the use of reason, we always suppose an external 
universe, which depends not on our perception, but would 
exist though we and every sensible creature were absent 
or annihilated. Even the animal creation are governed 
by a like opinion, and preserve this belief of external ob- 
jects in all their thoughts, designs, and actions. 

" It seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind 
and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the 
very images presented by the senses to be the external 
objects, and never entertain any suspicion, that the one 
are nothing but representations of the other. This very 
table which we see white, and feel hard, is believed to 
exist independent of our perception, and to be something 
external to the mind which perceives it ; our presence 
bestows not being upon it ; our absence annihilates it not: 
it preserves its existence uniform and entire, independent 
of the situation of intelligent beings who perceive or con- 
template it. 

" But this universal and primary notion of all men is 
soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches 
us, that nothing can ever be present to. the mind, but in 
image or perception ; and that the senses are only the 

* Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, Sect. XII. Part I. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 123 

Inlets through which these images are received, without 
being ever able to produce any immediate intercourse 
between the mind and the object." 

It is therefore acknowledged by this philosopher to be 
a natural instinct or prepossession, a universal and pri- 
mary opinion of all men, a primary instinct of nature, 
that the objects which we immediately perceive by our 
senses are not images in our minds, but external objects, 
and that their existence is independent of us and our 
perception. 

In this acknowledgment, Mr. Hume, indeed, seems to 
me more generous, and even more ingenuous, than Bishop 
Berkeley, who would persuade us, that his opinion does 
not oppose the vulgar opinion, but only that of the phi- 
losophers ; and that the external existence of a material 
world is a philosophical hypothesis, and not the natural 
dictate of our perceptive powers. The Bishop shows a 
timidity of engaging such an adversary as a primary and 
universal opinion of all men. He is rather fond to court 
its patronage. But the philosopher intrepidly gives a 
defiance to this antagonist, and seems to glory in a con- 
flict that is worthy of his arm. 

" Optat aprum aut fulvum descendere monte leonem." 

After all, I suspect that a philosopher who wages war 
with this adversary will find himself in the same condition 
as a mathematician who should undertake to demonstrate 
that there is no truth in the axioms of mathematics. 

III. The Common Theory of Ideas unsupported by 
Evidence.] A second reflection upon this subject is, that 
the authors who have treated of ideas have generally taken 
their existence for granted, as a thing that could not be 
called in question ; and such arguments as they have men- 
tioned incidentally, in order to prove it, seem too weak to 
support the conclusion. 

Mr. Norris is the only author I have met with, who 
professedly puts the question, whether material things 
can be perceived by us immediately. He has offered 
four arguments to show that they cannot. First, " Ma- 
terial objects are without the mind, and therefore there 



124 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

can be no union between the object and the percipient." 
Answer, This argument is lame, until it is shown to be 
necessary that in perception there should be a union be- 
tween the object and the percipient. Second, " Material 
objects are disproportioned to the mind, and removed 
from it by the whole diameter of being." This argu- 
ment I cannot answer, because I do not understand it.* 
Third, " Because, if material objects were immediate 
objects of perception, there could be no physical science-; 
things necessary and immutable being the only object of 
science." Answer, Although things necessary and im- 
mutable be not the immediate objects of perception, they 
may be immediate objects of other powers of the mind. 
Fourth, " If material things were perceived by them- 
selves, they would be a true light to our minds, as being 
the intelligible form of our understandings, and conse- 
quently perfective of them, and indeed superior to them." 
If I comprehend any thing of this mysterious argument, 
it follows from it, that the Deity perceives nothing at all, 



* This confession would, of itself, prove how superficially Reid was 
versed in the literature of philosophy. Norris's second argument is 
only the statement of a principle generally assumed by philosophers, — 
that the relation of knowledge infers a correspondence of nature be- 
tween the subject knowing and the object known. This principle has, 
perhaps, exerted a more extensive influence on speculation than any 
other; and yet it has not been proved^ — nay, is contradicted by the 
evidence of consciousness itself. To trace the influence of this assump- 
tion would be, in fact, in a certain sort, to write the history of philoso- 
phy ; for, though this influence has never yet been historically devel- 
oped, it would be easy to show that the belief, explicit, or implicit, that 
what knows and what is immediately known must be of an anal- 
ogous nature, lies at the root of almost every theory of cognition, from 
the very earliest to the very latest speculations. 

In the more ancient philosophy of Greece, three philosophers (Anax- 
agoras, Heraclitus, and Alcmaeon) are found, who professed the opposite 
doctrine, — that the condition of knowledge lies in the contrariety, in 
the natural antithesis, of subject and object. Aristotle, likewise, in his 
treatise On the Soul, expressly condemns the prevalent opinion, that the 
similar is only cognizable by the similar ; but, in his JYicomachian Ethics, 
he reverts to the doctrine which, in the former work, he had rejected. 
With these exceptions, no principle, since the time of Empedocles, by 
whom it seems first to have been explicitly announced, has been more 
universally received than this, — that the relation of knowledge infers 
an analogy of existence. This analogy may be of two degrees. What 
knows, and what is known, may be either similar or the same; and 
if the principle itself be admitted, the latter alternative is the more 
philosophical. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 125 

because nothing can be superior to his understanding, or 
perfective of it. 

There is an argument which is hinted at by Male- 
branche, and by several other authors, which deserves to 
be more seriously considered. As I find it most clearly 
expressed and most fully urged by Dr. Samuel Clarke, I 
shall give it in his words, in his second reply to Leibnitz, 
§ 4 : — '"' The soul, without being present to the images of 
the things perceived, could not possibly perceive them. 
A living substance can only there perceive, where it is 
present, either to the things themselves, (as the omnipres- 
ent God is to the whole universe,) or to the images of 
things, as the soul is in its proper sensorium." 

That nothing can act immediately where it is not, I 
think, must be admitted ; for I agree with Sir Isaac New- 
ton, that power without substance is inconceivable. It is 
a consequence of this, that nothing can be acted upon 
immediately where the agent is not present. Let this, 
therefore, be granted. To make the reasoning conclusive, 



Without entering on details, I may here notice some of the more 
remarkable results of this principle, in both its degrees. The general 
principle, not, indeed, exclusively, but mainly, determined the admis- 
sion of a representative perception, by disallowing the possibility of any 
consciousness, or immediate knowledge of matter, by a nature so dif- 
ferent from it as mind; and, in its two degrees, it determined the 
various hypotheses by which it was attempted to explain the possi- 
bility of a representative or mediate perception of the external world. 
To this principle, in its lower potence, — that what knows must be 
similar in nature to what is immediately known, — we owe the inten- 
tional species of the Aristotelians, and the ideas of Malebranche and 
Berkeley. From this principle, in its higher potence,- — that what 
knows must be identical in nature with what is immediately known, — 
there flow the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, the preexisting forms 
or species of Theophrastus and Themistius, of Adelandus and Avi- 
cenna, the (mental) ideas of Descartes and Arnauld, the representations, 
sensual ideas, &c. of Leibnitz and Wolff, the phenomena of Kant, the 
states of Brown, and (shall we say ?) the vacillating doctrine of per- 
ception held by Reid himself. Mediately, this principle was the origin 
of many other famous theories : — of the hierarchical gradation of souls 
or faculties of the Aristotelians; of the vehicular media of the Plato- 
nists; of the hypotheses of a common intellect of Alexander, Themis- 
tius, Averroes, Cajetanus, and Zabarella; of the vision in the deity of 
Malebranche; and of the Cartesian and Leibnitzian doctrines of assist- 
ance and preestablished harmony. Finally, to this principle is to be 
ascribed the refusal of the evidence of consciousness to the primary 
act, the duality of its perception ; and the unitarian schemes of abso- 
lute identity, materialism, and idealism are the results. — H. 
11* 



126 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

it is further necessary, that, when we perceive objects, 
either they act upon us, or we act upon them. This does 
not appear self-evident, nor have I ever met with any 
proof of it. 1 shall briefly offer the reasons why I think 
it ought not to be admitted. 

When we say that one being acts upon another, we 
mean that some power or force is exerted by the agent, 
which produces, or has a tendency to produce, a change 
in the thing acted upon. If this be the meaning of the 
phrase, as I conceive it is, there appears no reason for 
asserting, that, in perception, either the object acts upon 
the mind, or the mind upon the object. 

An object, in being perceived, does not act at ah. I 
perceive the walls of the room where I sit ; but they are 
perfectly inactive, and therefore act not upon the mind. 
To be perceived is what logicians call an external de- 
nomination, which implies neither action nor quality in 
the object perceived. Nor could men ever have gone into 
this notion, that perception is owing to some action of 
the object upon the mind, were it not that we are so prone 
to form our notions of the mind from some similitude we 
conceive between it and body. Thought in the mind is 
conceived to have some analogy to motion in a body ; and 
as a body is put in motion by being acted upon by some 
other body, so w T e are apt to think the mind is made to 
perceive by some impulse it receives from the object. 
But reasonings drawn from such analogies ought never 
to be trusted. They are, indeed, the cause of most 
of our errors with regard to the mind. And we might 
as well conclude, that minds may be measured by feet 
and inches, or weighed by ounces and drachms, because 
bodies have those properties.* 

* This reasoning, which is not original to Reid, (see Note S,) is not 
clearly or precisely expressed. In asserting that " an object, in being 
perceived, does not act at all," our author cannot mean that it does not 
act upon the organ of sense ; for this would not only be absurd in itself, 
but in contradiction to his own doctrine, — "it being," he says, "a law 
of our nature that we perceive not external objects unless certain im- 
pressions be made on the nerves and brain." The assertion, — "I per- 
ceive the walls of the room where I sit, but they are perfectly inactive, 
and therefore act not on the mind," is equally incorrect in statement. 
The loalls of the room, strictly so called, assuredly do not act on the 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 127 

I see as little reason, in the second place, to believe 
that in perception the mind acts upon the object. To 
perceive an object is one thing ; to act upon it is another. 
Nor is the last at all included in the first. To say, that 
I act upon the wall by looking at it, is an abuse of lan- 
guage, and has no meaning. Logicians distinguish two 
kinds of operations of mind ; the first kind produces no 
effect without the mind ; the last does. The first they 
call immanent acts ; the second transitive. All intellect- 
ual operations belong to the first class ; they produce no 
effect upon any external object. But without having 
recourse to logical distinctions, every man of common 
sense knows, that to think of an object and to act upon 
it are very different things. 

As we have, therefore, no evidence, that, in percep- 
tion, the mind acts upon the object, or the object upon 
the mind, but strong reasons to the contrary, Dr. Clarke's 
argument against our perceiving external objects imme- 
diately, falls to the ground. 

This notion, that, in perception, the object must be 
contiguous to the percipient, seems, with many other 
prejudices, to be borrowed from analogy. In all the ex- 
ternal senses, there must, as has been before observed, 
be some impression made upon the organ of sense by the 
object, or by something coming from the object. An 
impression supposes contiguity. Hence we are led by 
analogy to conceive something similar in the operations 
of the mind. Many philosophers resolve almost every 
operation of mind into impressions and feelings, words 
manifestly borrowed from the sense of touch. And it is 
very natural to conceive contiguity necessary between 
that which makes the impression and that which receives 



mind, or on the eye ; but the walls of the room, in this sense, are, in 
fact, no object of (visnal) perception at all. What we see in this in- 
stance, and what we loosely call the walls of the room, is only the light 
reflected from their surface in its relation to the organ of sight, i. e. 
color ; but it cannot be affirmed that the rays of light do not act on 
and affect the retina, optic nerve, and brain. What Aristotle distin- 
guished as the concomitants of sensation — as extension, motion, po- 
sition, &c. — are, indeed, perceived without any relative passion of the 
sense. But, whatever may be Reid's meaning, it is, at best, vague 
and inexplicit. — H. 



128 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

it, between that which feels and that which is felt. And 
though no philosopher will now pretend to justify such 
analogical reasoning as this, yet it has a powerful influ- 
ence upon the judgment, while we contemplate the opera- 
tions of our minds only as they appear through the de- 
ceitful medium of such analogical notions and expres- 
sions.* 

IV. Hume's Argument stated and refuted.'] There 
remains only one other argument that I have been able to 
find urged against our perceiving external objects immedi- 
ately. It is proposed by Mr. Hume, who, in the essay 
already quoted, after acknowledging that it is a universal 
and primary opinion of all men that we perceive external 
objects immediately, subjoins what follows : — 

" But this universal and primary opinion of all men is 
soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches 
us that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an 
image or perception ; and that the senses are only the. in- 
lets through which these images are received, without 
being ever able to produce any immediate intercourse be- 
tween the mind and the object. The table which we 
see seems to diminish as we remove farther from it ; but 
the real table, which exists independent of us, suffers no 
alteration. It was, therefore, nothing but its image which 
was present to the mind. These are the obvious dictates 
of reason ; and no man who reflects ever doubted that 
the existences which we consider, when we say this 
house, and that tree, are nothing but perceptions in the 
mind, and fleeting copies and representations of other 
existences which remain uniform and independent. So 
far, then, we are necessitated by reasoning to depart from 
the primary instincts of nature, and to embrace a new 
system with regard to the evidence of our senses." 

We have here a remarkable conflict between two con- 
tradictory opinions, wherein all mankind are engaged. 

* It is self-evident, that, if a thing is to be an object immediately 
known, it must be known as it exists. Now a body must exist in some 
definite part of space, — in a certain place; it cannot, therefore, be im- 
mediately known as existing, except it be known in its place. But 
tlais supposes the mind to be immediately present to it in space. — H. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 129 

On the one side stand all the vulgar, who are unpractised 
in philosophical researches, and guided by the uncorrupt- 
ed primary instincts of nature. On the other side stand 
all the philosophers, ancient and modern, — every man 
without exception who reflects. In this division, to my 
great humiliation, I find myself classed with the vulgar. 

The passage now quoted is all I have found in Mr. 
Hume's writings upon this point ; and, indeed, there is 
more reasoning in it than I have found in any other au- 
thor ; I shall therefore examine it minutely. 

First, He tells us, that " this universal and primary 
opinion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest phi- 
losophy, which teaches us that nothing can ever be pres- 
ent to the mind but an image ov perception.'''' 

The phrase of being present to the mind has some ob- 
scurity; but I conceive he means being an immediate ob- 
ject of thought, — an immediate object, for instance, of 
perception, of memory, or of imagination. If this be the 
meaning (and it is the only pertinent one I can think of), 
there is no more in this passage than an assertion of the 
proposition to be proved, and an assertion that philosophy 
teaches it. If this be so, I beg leave to dissent from 
philosophy till she gives me reason for what she teaches. 
For though common sense and my external senses de- 
mand my assent to their dictates upon their own authority, 
yet -philosophy is not entitled to this privilege. But that 
I may not dissent from so grave a personage without giv- 
ing a reason, I give this as the reason of my dissent. I 
see the sun when he shines ; I remember the battle of 
Culloden ; and neither of these objects is an image or 
perception. 

He tells us, in the next place, " That the senses 
are only the inlets through which these images are re- 
ceived." 

Mr. Hume surely did not seriously believe that an 
image of sound is let in by the ear, an image of smell by 
the nose, an image of hardness and softness, of solidity 
and resistance, by the touch. For, besides the absurdity 
of the thing, which has often been shown, Mr. Hume and 
all modern philosophers maintain that the images which 
are the immediate objects of perception have no exist- 



130 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

ence when they are not perceived ; whereas, if they were 
let in by the senses, they must be before they are per- 
ceived, and have a separate existence. 

Hitherto I see nothing that can be called an argument. 
Perhaps it was intended only for illustration. The argu- 
ment, the only argument, follows : — 

" The table which we see seems to diminish as we re- 
move farther from it ; but the real table, which exists in- 
dependent of us, suffers no alteration. It was, therefore, 
nothing but its image which was presented to the mind. 
These are the obvious dictates of reason." 

To judge of the strength of this argument, it is necessa- 
ry to attend to a distinction which is familiar to those who 
are conversant with the mathematical sciences, I mean 
the distinction between real and apparent magnitude. 
The real magnitude of a line is measured by some known 
measure of length, as Inches, feet, or miles : the real 
magnitude of a surface or solid, by known measures of 
surface or of capacity. This magnitude is an object of 
touch only, and not of sight ; nor could we even have 
had any conception of it, without the sense of touch ; 
and Bishop Berkeley, on that account, calls it tangible 
magnitude.* Apparent magnitude is measured by the 
angle which an object subtends at the eye. Suppos- 
ing two right lines drawn from the eye to the extremities 
of the object, making an angle of which the object is 
the subtense, the apparent magnitude is measured by 
this angle. This apparent magnitude is an object of 
sight, and not of touch. Bishop Berkeley calls it visible 
magnitude. 

* The doctrine of Reid — that real magnitude or extension is the ob- 
ject of touch and of touch alone — is altogether untenable. For, in 
the first place, magnitude appears greater or less in proportion to the 
different size of the tactile organ in different subjects; thus, an apple is 
larger to the hand of a child than to the hand of an adult. Touch, 
therefore, can, at best, afford a knowledge of the relation of magni- 
tudes in proportion to the organ of this or that individual. But, in the 
second place, even in the same individual, the same object appears 
greater or less, according as it is touched by one part of the body or by 
another. On this subject, see Weber's .Innotationes de Pulsu, Resorp- 
done, Jluditu, et Tactu. Leipsic, 1834. — H. 

Compare Bailey's Revieio of Berkeley's Theory of Vision, Chap. III. 
— Ed. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE THEORY OF IDEAS. 131 

If it is asked, What is the apparent magnitude of the 
sun's diameter ? the answer is, That it is about thirty-one 
minutes of a degree. But if it is asked, What is the 
real magnitude of the sun's diameter ? the answer must 
be, So many thousand miles, or so many diameters of the 
earth. From which it is evident, that real magnitude 
and apparent magnitude are things of a different nature, 
though the name of magnitude is given to both. The 
first has three dimensions, the last only two. The first is 
measured by a line, the last by an angle. 

From what has been said, it is evident that the real 
magnitude of a body must continue unchanged while the 
body is unchanged. This we grant. But is it likewise 
evident that the apparent magnitude must continue the 
same while the body is unchanged ? So far otherwise, 
that every man who knows any thing of mathematics can 
easily demonstrate, that the same individual object, re- 
maining in the same place, and unchanged, must neces- 
sarily vary in its apparent magnitude, according as the 
point from which it is seen is more or less distant ; and 
that its apparent length or breadth will be nearly in a re- 
ciprocal proportion to the distance of the spectator. 
This is as certain as the principles of geometry.* 

We must likewise attend to this, that though the real 
magnitude of a body is not originally an object of sight, 
but of touch, yet we learn by experience to judge of the 
real magnitude in many cases by sight. We learn by ex- 
perience to judge of the distance of a body from the eye 
within certain limits ; and from its distance and apparent 
magnitude taken together, we learn to judge of its real 
magnitude. And this kind of judgment, by being repeat- 
ed every hour, and almost every minute, of our lives, be- 
comes, when we are grown up, so ready and so habitual, 
that it very much resembles the original perceptions of our 

* The whole confusion and difficulty in this matter arise from not 
determining what is the true ohject in visual perception. This is not 
any distant thing, but merely the rays of light in immediate relation to 
the organ. We therefore see a different ohject at every movement, by 
which a different complement of rays is reflected to the eye. The 
things from which these rays are reflected are not, in truth, perceived at 
all; and to conceive them as objects of perception is, therefore, errone- 
ous, and productive of error. — H. 



132 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

senses, and may not improperly be called acquired per- 
ception. 

Whether we call it judgment or acquired perception is 
a verbal difference. But it is evident, that, by means of 
it, we often discover by one sense things which are prop- 
erly and naturally the objects of another. Thus I can 
say without impropriety, 1 hear a drum, I hear a great 
bell, or I hear a small bell ; though it is certain that the 
figure or size of the sounding body is not originally an ob- 
ject of hearing. In like manner, we learn by experience 
how a body of such a real magnitude, and at such a dis- 
tance, appears to the eye : but neither its real magnitude, 
nor its distance from the eye, is properly an object of sight, 
any more than the form of a drum, or the size of a bell, 
is properly an object of hearing. 

If these things be considered, it will appear that Mr. 
Hume's argument has no force to support his conclusion, 
nay, that it leads to a contrary conclusion. The argu- 
ment is this, — the table we see seems to diminish as we 
remove farther from it ; that is, its apparent magnitude is 
diminished ; but the real table suffers no alteration, to 
wit, in its real magnitude ; therefore it is not the real 
table we see. I admit both the premises in this syllogism, 
but I deny the conclusion. The syllogism has what the 
logicians call two middle terms : apparent magnitude is 
the middle term in the first premise ; real magnitude in 
the second. Therefore, according to the rules of logic, 
the conclusion is not justly drawn from the premises ; but, 
laying aside the rules of logic, let us examine it by the 
light of common sense. 

Let us suppose, for a moment, that it is the real table 
we see. Must not this real table seem to diminish as we 
remove farther from it ? It is demonstrable that it must. 
How, then, can this apparent diminution be an argument 
that it is not the real table ? When that which must hap- 
pen to the real table, as we remove farther from it, does 
actually happen to the table we see, it is absurd to con- 
clude from this that it is not the real table we see. It is 
evident, therefore, that this ingenious author has imposed 
upon himself by confounding real magnitude with apparent 
magnitude, and that his argument is a mere sophism. 



OF SENSATION PROPER. 133 

Thus I have considered every argument I have found 
advanced to prove the existence of ideas, or images of 
external things, in the mind : and if no better arguments 
can be found, I cannot help thinking, that the whole his- 
tory of philosophy has never furnished an instance of an 
opinion so unanimously entertained by philosophers upon 
so slight grounds. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF SENSATION. 



I. The Names of many of our Sensations Ambiguous.'] 
Having finished what I intend, with regard to that act of 
mind which we call the perception of an external object, 
I proceed to consider another, which, by our constitution, 
is conjoined with perception, and not with perception 
only, but with many other acts of our minds ; and that is 
sensation. 

Sensation is a name given by philosophers to an act of 
mind, which may be distinguished from all others by this, 
that it has no object distinct from itself.* Pain of every 
kind is an uneasy sensation. When I am pained, I can- 
not say that the pain I feel is one thing, and that my feel- 
ing it is another thing. They are one and the same 
thing, and cannot be disjoined even in imagination. Pain, 
when it is not felt, has no existence. It can be neither- 
greater or less in degree or duration, nor any thing else in 
kind, than it is felt to be. It cannot exist by itself, nor in 
any subject but a sentient being. No quality of an 
inanimate, insentient being can have the least resemblance 
to it. 

Almost all our perceptions have corresponding sensa- 

. * But sensation, in the language of philosophers, has been generally- 
employed to denote the whole process of sensitive cognition, including 
perception proper and sensation proper. On this distinction, see Note 
D*.— H. 

12 



134 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

tions which constantly accompany them, and, on that ac- 
count, are very apt to be confounded with them. Neither 
ought we to expect, that the sensation, and its corre- 
sponding perception, should be distinguished in common 
language, because the purposes of common life do not re- 
quire it. Language is made to serve the purposes of or- 
dinary conversation ; and we have no reason to expect 
that it should make distinctions that are not of common 
use. ' Hence it happens, that a quality perceived, and the 
sensation corresponding to that perception, often go under 
the same name. 

This makes the names of most of our sensations am- 
biguous, and this ambiguity has very much perplexed 
philosophers. It will be necessary to give some instan- 
ces, to illustrate the distinction between our sensations 
and the objects of perception. 

When I smell a rose, there is in this operation both 
sensation and perception. The agreeable odor I feel, 
considered by itself, without relation to any external ob- 
ject, is merely a sensation. It affects the mind in a cer- 
tain way ; and this affection of the mind may be con- 
ceived, without a thought of the rose, or any other object. 
This sensation can be nothing else than it is felt to be. 
Its very essence consists in being felt ; and when it is not 
felt, it is not. There is no difference between the sensa- 
tion and the feeling of it ; they are one and the same 
thing. It is for this reason that w r e before observed, 
that, in sensation, there is no object distinct from that act 
of the mind by which it is felt ; and this holds true with 
regard to all sensations. 

Let us next attend to the perception which we have in 
smelling a rose. Perception has always an external ob- 
ject ; and the object of my perception, in this case, is 
that quality in the rose which I discern by the sense of 
smell. Observing that the agreeable sensation is raised 
when the rose is near, and ceases when it is removed, I 
am led, by my nature, to conclude some quality to be in 
the rose which is the cause of this sensation. This 
quality in the rose is the object perceived ; and that act 
of my mind, by which I have the conviction and belief 
of this quality, is what in this case I call perception. 



OF SENSATION PROPER. 135 

But it is here to be observed, that the sensation I feel, 
and the quality in the rose which T perceive, are both 
called by the same name. The smell of a rose is the 
name given to both : so that this name has two mean- 
ings ; and the distinguishing its different meanings removes 
all perplexity, and enables us to give clear and distinct 
answers to questions about which philosophers have held 
much dispute.* 

Thus, if it is asked whether the smell be in the rose, 
or in the mind that feels it, the answer is obvious ; — that 
there are two different things signified by the smell of a 
rose ; one of which is in the mind, and can be in nothing 
but in a sentient being ; the other is truly and properly in 
the rose. The sensation which I feel is in my mind. 
The mind is the sentient being ; and as the rose is insen- 
tient, there can be no sensation, nor any thing resembling 
sensation, in it. But this sensation in my mind is occa- 
sioned by a certain quality in the rose, which is called by 
the same name with the sensation, not on account of any 
similitude, but because of their constant concomitancy. 

All the names we have for smells, tastes, sounds, and 
for the various degrees of heat and cold, have a like am- 
biguity ; and what has been said of the smell of a rose 
may be applied to them. They signify both a sensation 
and a quality perceived by means of that sensation. The 
first is the sign, the last the thing signified. As both are 
conjoined by nature, and as the purposes of common life 
do not require them to be disjoined in our thoughts, they 
are both expressed by the same name : and this ambiguity 
is to be found in all languages, because the reason of it 
extends to all. 

The same ambiguity is found in the names of such dis- 
eases as are indicated by a particular painful sensation, 

* In reference to this and the following paragraphs, I may observe, 
that the distinction of subjective and objective qualities, here vaguely at- 
tempted, had been already precisely accomplished by Aristotle, in his 
discrimination of TradrjTiKcu TroiorrjTes (qualitates patibiles) and Tradrj 
(passiones). In regard to the Cartesian distinction, which is equally pre- 
cise, but of which Reid is unaware, it will suffice to say that they called 
color, as a sensation in the mind, formal color; color, as a quality in 
bodies capable of producing the sensation, primitive or radical color. 



136 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

such as the toothache or the headache. The toothache 
signifies a painful sensation, which can only be in a sen- 
tient being ; but it signifies also a disorder in the body, 
which has no similitude to a sensation, but is naturally 
connected with it. 

Pressing my hand with force against the table, I feel 
pain, and I feel the table to be hard. The pain is a sen- 
sation of the mind, and there is nothing that resembles It 
in the table. The hardness is in the table, nor is there 
any thing resembling it in the mind. Feeling is applied 
to both, but in a different sense ; being a word common 
to the act of sensation, and to that of perceiving by the 
sense of touch. 

I touch the table gently with my hand, and I feel it to 
be smooth, hard, and cold. These are qualities of the 
table perceived by touch; but I perceive them by means 
of a sensation which indicates them. This sensation not 
being painful, I commonly give no attention to it. It 
carries my thought immediately to the thing signified by it, 
and is itself forgot, as if it had never been. But by re- 
peating it, and turning my attention to it, and abstracting 
my thought from the thing signified by it, I find it to be 
merely a sensation, and that it has no similitude to the 
hardness, smoothness, or coldness of the table which is 
signified by it. 

It is indeed difficult, at first, to disjoin things in our at- 
tention which have always been conjoined, and to make 
that an object of reflection which never was so before ; 
but some pains and practice will overcome this difficulty 
in those who have got the habit of reflecting on the opera- 
tions of their own minds. 

Although the present subject leads us only to consider 
the sensations which we have by means of our external 
senses, yet it will serve to illustrate what has been said, 
and I apprehend is of importance in itself, to observe, 
that many operations of mind, to which we give one 
name, and which we always consider as one thing, are 
complex in their nature, and made up of several more 
simple ingredients ; and of these ingredients sensation 
very often makes one. Of this we shall give some in- 
stances. 



OF SENSATION PROPER. 137 

The appetite of hunger includes an uneasy sensation, 
and a desire of food. Sensation and desire are different 
acts of mind. The last, from its nature, must have an 
object ; the first has no object. These two ingredients 
may always be separated in thought ; perhaps they some- 
times are, in reality : but hunger includes both. 

Benevolence towards our fellow-creatures includes an 
agreeable feeling ; but it includes also a desire of the hap- 
piness of others. The ancients commonly called it de- 
sire. Many moderns choose rather to call it a feeling. 
Both are right ; and they only err who exclude either of 
the ingredients. Whether these two ingredients are 
necessarily connected is perhaps difficult for us to deter- 
mine, there being many necessary connections which we 
do not perceive to be necessary; but we can disjoin them 
in thought. They are different acts of the mind. 

An uneasy feeling, and a desire, are in like manner 
the ingredients of malevolent affections ; such as malice, 
envy, revenge. The passion of fear includes an uneasy 
sensation or feeling, and an opinion of danger ; and hope ■ 
is made up of the contrary ingredients. When we hear 
of a heroic action, the sentiment which it raises in our 
mind is made up of various ingredients. There is in it 
an agreeable feeling, a benevolent affection to the person, 
and a judgment or opinion of his merit. 

If we thus' analyze the various operations of our minds, 
we shall find that many of them which we consider as per- 
fectly simple, because we have been accustomed to call 
them by one name, are compounded of more simple in- 
gredients ; and that sensation, or feeling, which is only 
a more refined kind of sensation, makes one ingredient, 
not only in the perception of external objects, but in most 
operations of the mind. 

II. Variety and Distribution of our Sensations.'] A 
small degree of reflection may satisfy us, that the number 
and variety of our sensations and feelings are prodigious. 
For, to omit all those which accompany our appetites, 
passions, and affections, our moral sentiments, and senti- 
ments of taste, even our external senses furnish a great 
variety of sensations differing in kind, and almost in every 
12* 



138 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

kind an endless variety of degrees. Every variety we 
discern, with regard to taste, smell, sound, color, heat 
and cold, and in the tangible qualities of bodies, is indi- 
cated by a sensation corresponding to it.* 

The most general and the most important division of 
our sensations and feelings is into the agreeable, the dis- 
agreeable, and the indifferent. Every thing we call 
pleasure, happiness, or enjoyment, on the one hand, and, 
on the other, every thing we call misery, pain, or uneasi- 
ness, is sensation or feeling. For no man can for the 
present be more happy, or more miserable, than he feels 
himself to be. He cannot be deceived with regard to the 
enjoyment or suffering of the present moment. But I ap- 
prehend, that, besides the sensations that are either agree- 
able or disagreeable, there is still a greater number that 
are indifferent. f To these we give so little attention, that 
they have no name, and are immediately forgot, as if they 
had never been; and it requires attention to the opera- 
tions of our minds to be convinced of their existence. 



* It has been commonly held by philosophers, both in ancient and 
modern times, that the division of the senses into five is altogether 
inadequate ; and psychologists, though not at one in regard to the 
distribution, are now generally agreed, that under touch — or feeling 
in the strictest signification of the term — are comprised perceptions 
which are, at least, as well entitled to be opposed in species as those of 
taste and smell. — H. 

Mill says, — "A sense of something on the skin, and perhaps also 
on the interior parts of the body, taken purely by itself, seems alone 
the feeling of touch." It is "the feeling which we have when some- 
thing, without being seen, comes gently into contact with our skin, in 
such a way that we cannot say whether it is hard or soft, rough or 
smooth, or what figure it is, or of what size." To these he adds as 
distinct sensations, though commonly reckoned under the head of 
touch, — the sensations of heat and cold, resembling the ordinary sensa- 
tions of touch in nothing but this, that the organ of them is diffused 
over the whole body; sensatio?is of disorganization, or of the approach 
to disorganization, in any part of the body, as in lacerations, burnings, 
internal inflammations, itchings, &c. ; muscular sensations, or those 
feelings which accompany the action of the muscles, necessary to our 
idea of resistance, and manifesting themselves confusedly in a sense of 
fatigue or of restlessness ; and, finally, sensations in the alimentary canal, 
such as hunger, sea-sickness, the exhilarating effects of opium, the sense 
of wretchedness attending indigestion, and the like. Analysis of the 
Phenomena of the Human Mind, Chap. I. Sect. V. -VIII. Compare 
Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind., Sect. XXI. -XXIV., and 
Tissot, Anthropologic, I ere Partie, Lib. I. Sect. III. § 1. — Ed. 

t This is a point in dispute among philosophers. — H. 



OF SENSATION PROPER. 139 

For this end, we may observe, that to a good ear every 
human voice is distinguishable from all others. Some 
voices are pleasant, some disagreeable; but the far greater 
part can be said to be neither the one nor the other. The 
same thing may be said of other sounds, and no less of 
tastes, smells, and colors ; and if we consider that our senses 
are in continual exercise while we are awake, that some 
sensation attends every object they present to us, and that 
familiar objects seldom raise any emotion, pleasant or pain- 
ful, we shall see reason, besides the agreeable and dis- 
agreeable, to admit a third class of sensations, that may be 
called indifferent. 

The sensations that are indifferent are far from being 
useless. They serve as signs to distinguish things that 
differ; and the information we have concerning things ex- 
ternal comes by their means. Thus, if a man had no ear 
to receive pleasure from the harmony or melody of 
sounds, he would still find the sense of hearing of great 
utility. Though sounds gave him neither pleasure nor 
pain of themselves, they would give him much useful in- 
formation; and the like may be said of the sensations we 
have by all the other senses. 

As to the sensations and feelings that are agreeable or 
disagreeable, they differ much, not only in degree, but in 
kind and in dignity. Some belong to the animal part of 
our nature, and are common to us with the brutes. Others 
belong to the rational and moral part. The first are more 
properly called sensations, the last feelings. The French 
word sentiment is common to both.* 

The intention of nature in them is for the most part 
obvious, and well deserving our notice. It has been 
beautifully illustrated by a very elegant French writer, in 
his Theorie des Sentiments Jlgr tables, f 

The Author of nature, in the distribution of agreeable 
and painful feelings, has wisely and benevolently consult- 
ed the good of the human species, and has even shown 
us, by the same means, what tenor of conduct we ought 
to hold. For, first, The painful sensations of the animal 

* Some French philosophers, since Reid, have attempted the distinc- 
tion of sentiment and sensation. — H. 
t Levesque de Pouilly. — H. 



140 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

kind are admonitions to avoid what would hurt us ;* and 
the agreeable sensations of this kind invite us to those ac- 
tions that are necessary to the preservation of the individ- 
ual, or of the kind. Secondly, By the same means na- 
ture invites us to moderate bodily exercise, and admon- 
ishes to avoid idleness and inactivity on the one hand, and 
excessive labor and fatigue on the other. Thirdly, The 
moderate exercise of all our rational powers gives pleas- 
ure. Fourthly, Every species of beauty is beheld with 
pleasure, and every species of deformity with disgust; and 
we shall find all that we call beautiful to be something es- 
timable or useful in itself, or a sign of something that is 
estimable or useful. Fifthly, The benevolent affections 
are all accompanied with an agreeable feeling, the ma- 
levolent with the contrary. And, sixthly, The highest, 
the noblest, and most durable pleasure is that of doing 
well, and acting the part that becomes us; and the most 
bitter and painful sentiment, the anguish and remorse of a 

* On the uses, or the final cause, of pain, see Sir C. Bell's Bridgewater 
Treatise On the Hand, its Mechanism and Vital Endoiomenls, as evin- 
cing Design, Chap. VII. With great force and beauty, this author illus- 
trates the doctrine that sensibility to pain is a wise and beneficent pro- 
vision, evidently intended to protect us against more serious harm. 
Accordingly he shows, that, where pain is of use, it is found; where, 
from any cause, it would not be of use, the part is insensible. Thus, 
as he says, the skin, by its exquisite sensibility, is made a better safe- 
guard to the delicate textures which are contained within "than if our 
bodies were covered with the hide of the rhinoceros." Quoting from 
a lecture which he had delivered before the College of Surgeons, he 
puts the argument in another form : — " Without meaning to impute to 
you inattention or restlessness, I may request you to observe how every 
one occasionally changes his position and shifts the pressure of the 
weight of his body : were you constrained to retain one position during 
the whole hour, you would rise stiff and lame. The sensibility of the 
skin is here guiding you to that which, if neglected, would be followed 
even by the death of the part." 

" In pursuing the inquiry, we learn with much interest, that, when 
the bones, joints, and all the membranes and ligaments which cover 
them, are exposed, they may be cut, pricked, or even burned, without 
the patient or the animal suffering the slightest pain." The reason is, 
that the pain is not needed, since no suck injuries can reach the parts 
referred to, or never without warning being received through the sen- 
sibility of the skin. The only injuries to which the bones, joints, and 
sinews are liable, without the sensibility of the skin being first excited, 
are sprains, ruptures, concussions, and the like. In such cases, there- 
fore, our doctrine would lead us to expect that these inward parts would 
be sensible to pain, that we might he warned, in the only way we 
could be, effectually, of the presence of the evil; and so in fact it is. 



OF SENSATION PROPER. 141 

guilty conscience. These observations, with regard to 
the economy of nature in the distribution of our painful 
and agreeable sensations and feelings, are illustrated by 
the author last mentioned so elegantly and judiciously, 
that I shall not attempt to say any thing upon them after 
him. 

I shall conclude this chapter by observing, that, as the 
confounding our sensations with that perception of external 
objects which is constantly conjoined with them has been 
the occasion of most of the errors and false theories of phi- 
losophers with regard to the senses, so the distinguishing 
these operations seems to me to be the key that leads to a 
right understanding of both. 

The purposes of life, as was before observed, do not 
require them to be distinguished. It is the philosopher 
alone who has occasion to distinguish them, when he would 
analyze the operation compounded of them. But philos- 
ophers, as well as the vulgar, have been accustomed to 
comprehend both sensation and perception under one 

" How consistent, then, and beautiful is the distribution of this qual- 
ity of life ! The sensibility to pain varies with the function of the part. 
The skin is endowed with sensibility to every possible injurious im- 
pression which may be made upon it. But had this kind and degree of 
sensibility been made universal, we should have been racked with pain 
in the common motions of the body : the mere weight of one part on 
another, or the motion of the joint, would have been attended with that 
degree of suffering which we experience in using or walking with an 
inflamed limb. But, on the other hand, had the deeper parts possessed no 
sensibility, we should have had no guide in our exertions. They have 
a sensibility limited to the kind of injury which it is possible may reach 
them, and which teaches us what we can do with impunity. 

" To contrast still more strongly the sensibility of the surface with the 
property of internal parts, to show how very different sensibility is in 
reality from what is suggested by first experience, and how admirably it 
is varied and accommodated to the functions, we shall add one other 
fact. The brain is insensible, — that part of the brain which, if dis- 
turbed or diseased, takes away consciousness, is as insensible as the 
leather of our shoe ! That the brain may be touched, or a portion cut 
off, without interrupting the patient in the sentence that he is uttering, 
is a surprising circumstance !" The reason we suppose to be, that the 
safety of the brain is otherwise provided for by its strong osseous integ- 
uments, so that sensibility here would only have the effect to expose 
man to superfluous suffering. " Reason on it, however, as we may, 
the fact is so; — the brain, through which every impression must be 
conveyed before it is perceived, is itself insensible. This informs us 
that sensibility is not a necessary attendant on the delicate texture of a 
living part, but that it must have an appropriate organ, and that it is 
an especial provision." — Ed. 



142 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

name, and to consider them as one uncompounded opera- 
tion. Philosophers, even more than the vulgar, have 
generally given the name of sensation to the whole opera- 
tion of the senses; and all the notions we have of ma- 
terial things have been called ideas of sensation. This 
led Bishop Berkeley to take one ingredient of a complex 
operation for the whole; and having clearly discovered 
the nature of sensation, taking it for granted that all that 
the senses present to the mind is sensation, which can 
have no resemblance to any thing material, he concluded 
that there is no material world. 

If the senses furnished us with no materials of 'thought 
but sensations, his conclusion must be just; for no sensa- 
tion can give us the conception of material things, far less 
any argument to prove their existence. But if it is true 
that by our senses we have not only a variety of sensa- 
tions, but likewise a conception and an immediate natural 
conviction of external objects, he reasons from a false sup- 
position, and his arguments fall to the ground.* 

* In his Supplementary Dissertations, Note D*, Sir W. Hamilton says 
of " sensation proper and perception proper, in correlation " : — " In per- 
ception proper there is a higher energy of intelligence than in sensation 
proper. For though the latter be the apprehension of an affection of the 
ego, and therefore, in a certain sort, the apprehension of an immaterial 
quality, still it is only the apprehension of the fact of an organic pas- 
sion ; whereas the former, though supposing sensation as its condition, 
and though only the apprehension of the attributes of a material 
non-ego, is, however, itself without corporeal passion, and, at the same 
time, the recognition not merely of a fact, but of relations. 

" Sensation proper is the conditio sine qua non of a perception proper 
of the primary qualities. For we are only aware of the existence of our 
organism in being sentient of it, as thus or thus affected; and are only 
aware of it being the subject of extension, figure, division, motion, &c, 
in being percipient of its affections, as like or as unlike, and as out of, or 
locally external to, each other. 

" Every perception proper has a sensation proper as its condition ; but 
every sensation has not a. perception proper as its conditionate, — unless, 
what I think ought to be done, we view the general consciousness of the 
locality of a sensorial affection as a. perception proper. In this case, the 
two apprehensions will be always coexistent. 

" But though the fact of sensation proper and the fact of perception 
proper imply each other, this is all ; for the two cognitions, though co- 
existent, are not proportionally coexistent. On the contrary, although 
we can only take note of, that is, perceive, the special relations of sensa- 
tions, on the hypothesis that these sensations exist; a sensation, in pro- 
portion as it rises above a low degree of intensity, interferes with the per- 
ception of its relations, by concentrating consciousness on its absolute 
affection alone. It may accordingly be stated as a general rule, That, 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 143 

C HAPTER VIII. 

OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 

I. (1.) Primary and Secondary Qualities of Body.~] 
The objects of perception are the various qualities of 
bodies. Intending to treat of these only in general, and 
chiefly with a view to explain the notions which our 
senses give us of them, I begin with the distinction be- 
tween primary and secondary qualities. These were 
distinguished very early. The Peripatetic system con- 
founded them, and left no difference. The distinction 
was again revived by Descartes and Locke, and a second 
time abolished by Berkeley and Hume.* If the real 
foundation of this distinction can be pointed out, it will 
enable us to account for the various revolutions in the 
sentiments of philosophers concerning it. 

Every one knows that extension, divisibility, figure, 
motion, solidity, hardness, softness, and fluidity, were by 
Mr. Locke called primary qualities of body ; and that 
sound, color, taste, smell, and heat or cold, were called 
secondary qualities. Is there a just foundation for this 
distinction ? Is there any thing common to the primary 
which belongs not to the secondary ? And what is it ? 

I answer, that there appears to me to be a real foun- 
dation for the distinction ; and it is this : that our senses 



above a certain point, the stronger the sensation, the tceaker the -perception ; 
and the distincter the perception, the less obtrusive the sensation : in other 
words, Though perception proper and sensation proper exist only as they 
coexist, in the degree or intensity of their existence they are always found 
in an inverse ratio to each other." — Ed. 

* For the history of this distinction, see Sir W. Hamilton's Supple- 
mentary Dissertations, Note D, § 1. Here, as in many other places, by 
"the Peripatetic system" we must understand the system as held by 
some of the followers of Aristotle, and not as held by himself. "Aris- 
totle," says Hamilton, " does not abolish the distinction ; — nay, I am 
confident of showing, that, to whatever merit modern philosophers may 
pretend in this analysis, all and each of their observations are to be 
found, clearly stated, in the writings of the Stagirite." He also says 
of Locke : — " His doctrine in regard to the attributes of bodies, in so 
far as these have power to produce sensations and perceptions or sim- 
ple ideas in us, contains absolutely nothing new." — Ed. 



144 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

give us a direct and a distinct notion of the primary qual- 
ities, and inform us what they are in themselves : but of 
the secondary qualities, our senses give us only a relative 
and obscure notion.* They inform us only, that they are 
qualities that affect us in a certain manner, that is, pro- 
duce in us a certain sensation ; but as to what they are 
in themselves, our senses leave us in the dark.f 

Every man capable of reflection may easily satisfy 
himself, that he has a perfectly clear and distinct notion 
of extension, divisibility, figure, and motion. The solid- 
ity of a body means no more than that it excludes other 
bodies from occupying the same place at the same time. 
Hardness, softness, and fluidity are different degrees of 
cohesion in the parts of a body. It is fluid, when it has 
no sensible cohesion ; soft, when the cohesion is weak ; 
and hard, when it is strong. Of the cause of this cohesion 
we are ignorant, but the thing itself we understand per- 
fectly, being immediately informed of it by the sense of 
touch. It is evident, therefore, that of the primary qual- 
ities we have a clear and distinct notion ; we know what 
they are, though we may be ignorant of their causes. 

I observe, further, that the notion we have of primary 
qualities is direct, and not relative only. A relative no- 
tion of a thing is, strictly speaking, no notion of a thing at 
all, but only of some relation which it bears to something 
else. 

Thus gravity sometimes signifies the tendency of bodies 
towards the earth ; sometimes it signifies the cause of 
that tendency. When it means the first, I have a direct 

* By the expression, "what they are in themselves," in reference to 
the primary qualities, and of "relative notion," in reference to the sec- 
ondary, Reid cannot mean that the former are known to us absolutely 
and in themselves, — that is, out of relation to our cognitive faculties ; 
for he elsewhere admits that all our knowledge is relative. Farther, if 
" our senses give us a direct and distinct notion of the primary qualities, 
and inform us what they are in themselves," these qualities, as known, 
must resemble, or be identical with, these qualities as existing. — H. 

t The distinctions of perception and sensation, and of primary and 
secondary qualities, may be reduced to one higher principle. Knowl- 
edge is partly objective and partly subjective : both these elements are 
essential to every cognition, but in every cognition they are always in 
the inverse ratio of each other. In perception and the primary quali- 
ties, the objective element preponderates ; whereas the subjective ele- 
ment preponderates in sensation and the secondary qualities. — H. 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 145 

and distinct notion of gravity : I see it, and feel it, and 
know perfectly what it is ; but this tendency must have a 
cause. We give the same name to the cause ; and that 
cause has been an object of thought and of speculation. 
Now what notion have we of this cause when we think 
and reason about it ? It is evident we think of it as an 
unknown cause of a known effect. This is a relative 
notion, and it must be obscure, because it gives us no 
conception of what the thing is, but of what relation it 
bears to something else. Every relation which a thing 
unknown bears to something that is known, may give a 
relative notion of it ; and there are many objects of 
thought, and of discourse, of which our faculties can give 
no better than a relative notion. 

Having premised these things to explain what is meant 
by a relative notion, it is evident that our notion of pri- 
mary qualities is not of this kind ; we know what they 
are, and not barely what relation- they bear to something 
else. 

It is otherwise with secondary qualities. If you ask 
me, what is that quality or modification in a rose which I 
call its smell, I am at a loss to answer directly. Upon 
reflection, I find that I have a distinct notion of the sen- 
sation which it produces in my mind. But there can be 
nothing like to this sensation in the rose, because it is 
insentient. The quality in the rose is something which 
occasions the sensation in me ; but what that something 
is, I know not. My senses give me no information upon 
this point. The only notion, therefore, my senses give is 
this, that smell in the rose is an unknown quality or mod- 
ification, which is the cause or occasion of a sensation 
which I know well. The relation which this unknown 
quality bears to the sensation with which nature has con- 
nected it, is all I learn from the sense of smelling ; but 
this is evidently a relative notion. The same reasoning 
will apply to every secondary quality. 

Thus I think it appears, that there is a real foundation 
for the distinction of primary from secondary qualities ", 
and that they are distinguished by this, that of the primary 
we have by our senses a direct and distinct notion ; but 
of the secondary only a relative notion, which must, be- 
13 



146 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

cause it is only relative, be obscure ; they are conceived 
only as the unknown causes or occasions of certain sen- 
sations with which we are well Acquainted. 

IT. Remarks on the Distinction between Primary and 
Secondary Qualities.] The account I have given of 
this distinction is founded upon no hypothesis. Whether 
our notions of primary qualities are direct and distinct, 
those of the secondary relative and obscure, is a matter 
of fact, of which every man may have certain knowledge 
by attentive reflection upon them. To this reflection I 
appeal, as the proper test of what has been advanced, 
and proceed to make some remarks on the subject. 

1 . The primary qualities are neither sensations, nor 
are they resemblances of sensations. This appears to me 
self-evident. I have a clear and distinct notion of each 
of the primary qualities. I have a clear and distinct 
notion of sensation. I can compare the one with the 
other ; and when I do so, I am not able to discern a re- 
sembling feature. Sensation is the act, or the feeling, 
(I dispute not which,) of a sentient being. Figure, di- 
visibility, solidity, are neither acts nor feelings. Sensa- 
tion supposes a sentient being as its subject ; for a sensa- 
tion that is not felt by some sentient being is an absurd- 
ity. Figure and divisibility suppose a subject that is 
figured and divisible, but not a subject that is sentient. 

2. We have no reason to think that the sensations by 
which we have notice of secondary qualities resemble any 
quality of body. The absurdity of this notion has been 
clearly shown by Descartes, Locke, and many modern 
philosophers. It was a tenet of the ancient philosophy, 
and is still by many imputed to the vulgar, but only as a 
vulgar error. It is too evident to need proof, that the 
vibrations of a sounding body do not resemble the sensa- 
tion of sound, nor the effluvia of an odorous body the 
sensation of smell. 

3. The distinctness of our notions of primary qualities 
prevents all questions and disputes about their nature. 
There are no different opinions about the nature of ex- 
tension, figure, or motion, or the nature of any primary 
quality. Their nature is manifest to our senses, and can- 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 147 

not be unknown to any man, or mistaken by him, though 
their causes may admit of dispute. 

The primary qualities are the objects of the mathemat- 
ical sciences ; and the distinctness of our notions of them 
enables us to reason demonstratively about them to a 
great extent. Their various modifications are precisely 
defined in the imagination, and thereby capable of being 
compared, and their relations determined with precision 
and certainty. 

It is not so with secondary qualities. Their nature, 
not being manifest to the sense, may be a subject of dis- 
pute. Our feeling informs us that the fire is hot ; but it 
does not inform us what that heat of the fire is. But 
does it not appear a contradiction, to say we know that 
the fire is hot, but we know not what that heat is ? I 
answer, There is the same appearance of contradiction 
in many things, that must be granted. We know that 
wine has an inebriating quality ; but we know not what 
that quality is. It is true, indeed, that, if we had not 
some notion of what is meant by the heat of fire, and by 
an inebriating quality, we could affirm nothing of either 
with understanding. We have a notion of both ; but it is 
only a relative notion. We know that they are the causes 
of certain known effects. 

4. The nature of secondary qualities is a proper sub- 
ject of philosophical disquisition ; and in this philosophy 
has made some progress. It has been discovered, that 
the sensation of smell is occasioned by the effluvia of 
bodies ; that of sound by their vibration. The disposi- 
tion of bodies to reflect a particular kind of light occa- 
sions the sensation of color. Very curious discoveries 
have been made of the nature of heat, and an ample field 
of discovery in these subjects remains. 

5. We may see why the sensations belonging to secon- 
dary qualities are an object of our attention, while those 
which belong to the primary are not. 

The first are not only signs of the object perceived, 
but they bear a capital part in the notion we form of it. 
We conceive it only as that which occasions such a sen- 
sation, and therefore cannot reflect upon it without think- 
ing of the sensation which it occasions : we have no other 



148 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

mark whereby to distinguish it. The thought of a sec- 
ondary quality, therefore, always carries us back to the 
sensation which it produces. We give the same name to 
both, and are apt to confound them together. But hav- 
ing a clear and distinct conception of primary qualities, 
we have no need when we think of them to recall their 
sensations. When a primary quality is perceived, the sen- 
sation immediately leads our thought to the quality signi- 
fied by it, and is itself forgot. We have no occasion after- 
wards to reflect upon it ; and so we come to be as little 
acquainted with it as if we had never felt it. This is the 
case with the sensations of all primary qualities, when they 
are not so painful or pleasant as to draw our attention. 

When a man moves his hand rudely against a pointed 
hard body, he feels pain, and may easily be persuaded 
that this pain is a sensation, and that there is nothing re- 
sembling it in the hard body ; at the same time he per- 
ceives the body to be hard and pointed, and he knows 
that these qualities belong to the body only. In this 
case, it is easy to distinguish what he feels from what he 
perceives. Let him again touch the pointed body gently, 
so as to give him no pain ; and now you can hardly per- 
suade him that he feels any thing but the figure and hard- 
ness of the body ; so difficult it is to attend to the sensa- 
tions belonging to primary qualities, when they are neither 
pleasant nor painful. They carry the thought to the ex- 
ternal object, and immediately disappear and are forgot. 
Nature intended them only as signs ; and when they have 
served that purpose, they vanish. 

6. We are now to consider a supposed contradiction 
between the vulgar and the philosophers upon this sub- 
ject. As to the former, it is not to be expected that 
they should make distinctions which have no connection 
with the common affairs of life ; they do not, therefore, 
distinguish the primary from the secondary qualities, but 
speak of both as being equally qualities of the external 
object. Of the primary qualities they have a distinct 
notion, as they are immediately and distinctly perceived 
by the senses ; of the secondary, their notions, as I ap- 
prehend, are confused and indistinct, rather than errone- 
ous. A secondary quality is the unknown cause or occa- 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 149 

sion of a well-known effect ; and the same name is com- 
mon to the cause and the effect. Now, to distinguish 
clearly the different ingredients of a complex notion, and, 
at the same time, the different meanings of an ambiguous 
word, is the work of a philosopher ; and is not to be 
expected of the vulgar, when their occasions do not re- 
quire it. 

I grant, therefore, that the notion which the vulgar 
have of secondary qualities, is indistinct and inaccurate. 
But there seems to be a contradiction between the vulgar 
and the philosopher upon this subject, and each charges 
the other with a gross absurdity. The vulgar say, that 
fire is hot, and snow cold, and sugar sweet ; and that to 
deny this is a gross absurdity, and contradicts the testi- 
mony of our senses. The philosopher says, that heat, 
and cold, and sweetness, are nothing but sensations in 
our minds ; and it is absurd to conceive that these sen- 
sations are in the fire, or in the snow, or in the sugar. 

I believe this contradiction between the vulgar and the 
philosopher is more apparent than real ; and that it is 
owing to an abuse of language on the part of the philoso- 
pher, and to indistinct notions on the part of the vulgar. 
The philosopher says, there is no heat in the fire, mean- 
ing that the fire has not the sensation of heat. His 
meaning is just ; and the vulgar will agree with him, as 
soon as they understand his meaning : but his language is 
improper ; for there is really a quality in the fire, of 
which the proper name is heat ; and the name of heat is 
given to this quality, both by philosophers and by the 
vulgar, much more frequently than to the sensation of 
heat. This speech of the philosopher, therefore, is meant 
by him in one sense ; it is taken by the vulgar in another 
sense. In the sense in which they take it, it is indeed 
absurd, and so they hold it to be. In the sense in which 
he means it, it is true ; and the vulgar, as soon as they 
are made to understand that sense, will acknowledge it to 
be true. They know as well as the philosopher, that the 
fire does not feel heat ; and this is all that he means by 
saying there is no heat in the fire.* 

* On the subject of Primary and Secondary Qualities, compare Stew- 
art, Philosophical Essays, Essay II. Chap. II. Sect. II. Royer Collard, 

13* 



150 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

III. Other Objects of Perception. (2.) Local Jiffec- 
tions in our own Bodies.] Besides primary and secon- 
dary qualities of bodies, there are many other immediate 
objects of perception. Without pretending to a complete 
enumeration, I think they mostly fall under one or other 
of the following classes: — First, Certain states or con- 
ditions of our own bodies. Second, Mechanical powers 
or forces. Third, Chemical powers. Fourth, Medical 
powers or virtues. Fifth, Vegetable and animal powers. 

That we perceive certain disorders in our own bodies 
by means of uneasy sensations, which nature has con- 
joined with them, will not be disputed. Of this kind are 
toothache, headache, gout, and every distemper and hurt 
which we feel. The notions which our sense gives of 
these have a strong analogy to our notions of secondary 
qualities. Both are similarly compounded, and may be 
similarly resolved, and they give light to each other. 

In the toothache, for instance, there is, first, a painful 

Fragments, in Jouffroy's (Euvres de Reid, Tome III. p. 426 et seq. Gar- 
nier, Critique de la Philosophic de Thomas Reid, p. 73 et seq. Remusat, 
Essais de Philosophic, Essai IX. Brown, Philosophy of the Human 
Mind, Lect. XXV. Sir VV. Hamilton, in his Supplementary Disserta- 
tions, Note D. 

Hamilton divides the qualities of body or matter into primary, secun- 
do-primary, and secondary. 

Starting with the simple datum, body considered as substance occupy- 
ing space, he deduces a priori, as necessary to the very conception, its 
primary qualities, which are the following : — 1. Extension ; 2. Divisi- 
bility ; 3. Size; 4. Density, or Rarity; 5. Figure; 6. Incompressibility 
absolute; 7. Mobility ; 8 Situation. 

The secundo primary qualities are modifications, but contingent mod- 
ifications, of the primary. They suppose the primary, but the primary 
do not suppose them, and hence they are not conceived by us as neces- 
sary properties of matter. They are the following, with their various 
modifications : — 1. Gravity ; 2. Cohesion ; 3. Inertia; 4. Repulsion. 

The secondary qualities, as manifested to us, are not, in propriety, 
qualities of body at all. "As apprehended, they are," he says, " only 
subjective affections, and belong to bodies in so far only as these are 
supposed furnished with the powers capable of specifically determining 
the various parts of our nervous apparatus to the peculiar action, or 
rather passion, of which they are susceptible ; which determined action 
or passion is the quality of which alone we are immediately cognizant, 
the external concause of that internal effect remaining to perception al- 
together unknown." He adds: — "Of the secondary qualities, in this 
relation, there are various kinds ; the variety principally depending on 
the differences of the different parts of our nervous apparatus. Such 
are the proper sensibles, the idiopathic affections of our several organs 
of sense, as color, sound, flavor, savor, and tactual sensation ; such 
are the feelings from heat, electricity, galvanism, &c. ; nor need it be 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 151 

feeling ; and, secondly, a conception and belief of some 
disorder in the tooth, which is believed to be the cause of 
the uneasy feeling. The first of these is a sensation, the 
second is a perception ; * for it includes a conception 
and belief of an external object. But these two things, 
though of different natures, are so constantly conjoined 
in our experience and in our imagination, that we consider 
them as one. We give the same name to both ; for the 
toothache is the proper name of the pain we feel ; and it 
is the proper name of the disorder in the tooth which 
causes that pain. If it should be made a question, whether 
the toothache be in the mind that feels it, or in the tooth 
that is affected, much might be said on both sides, while 
it is not observed that the word has two meanings. But 
a little reflection satisfies us, that the pain is in the mind, 
and the disorder in the tooth. If some philosopher 
should pretend to have made a discovery, that the tooth- 
ache, the gout, the headache, are only sensations in the 

added, such are the muscular and cutaneous sensations which accom- 
pany the perception of the secundo-primary qualities. Such, though 
less directly the result of foreign causes, are titillation, sneezing, hor- 
ripilation, shuddering, the feeling of what is called setting-the-teeth- 
on-edge, &c, &c. ; such, in fine, are all the various sensations of bod- 
ily pleasure and pain determined by the action of external stimuli." 

To mark the difference between the three classes of qualities, he ob- 
serves : — " The primary, being thought as essential to the notion of 
body, are distinguished from the secundo-primary and secondary as ac- 
cidental ; while the primary and secundo-primary, being thought as 
manifest or conceivable in their own nature, are distinguished from the 
secondary as in their own nature occult and inconceivable.'" And again : 
— " Using the terms strictly, the apprehensions of the primary are per- 
ceptions, not sensations ; of the secondary, sensations, not perceptions ; 
of the secundo-primary, perceptions and sensations together." Still far- 
ther : — "In the apprehension of the primary qualities, the mind is pri- 
marily and principally active ; it feels only as it knows [because it only 
feels, i. e. is conscious, that it knows]. In that of the secondary, the 
mind is primarily and principally passive; it knows only as it feels 
[because it only knows, i. e. is conscious, that it feels]. In that of the 
secundo-primary, the mind is equally and at once active and passive; in 
one respect it feels as it knows, in another, it knows as it feels." To 
illustrate the last statement he adduces the example of the secundo- 
primary quality of hardness, a modification of cohesion ; which consists 
of two parts, — pressure which \sfelt in the subject, and resistance which 
is perceived to belong to the object. — Ed. 

* There is no such " perception," properly- so called. The cognition 
is merely an inference from the feeling ; and its object, at least, only 
some hypothetical representation of a really Quotum quid. Here the 
subjective element preponderates so greatly as almost to extinguish the 
objective. — H. 



152 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

mind, and that it is a vulgar error to conceive that they 
are distempers of the body, he might defend his system 
in the same manner as those who affirm that there is no 
sound nor color nor taste in bodies defend that paradox. 
But both these systems, like most paradoxes, will be 
found to be only an abuse of words. 

We say that we feel the toothache, not that we per- 
ceive it. On the other hand, we say that we 'perceive the 
color of a body, not that we feel it. Can any reason be 
given for this difference of phraseology ? In answer to 
this question, I apprehend, that, both when we feel the 
toothache and when we see a colored body, there is sen- 
sation and perception conjoined. But in the toothache, 
the sensation, being very painful, engrosses the attention ; 
and therefore we speak of it as if it were felt only, and 
not perceived : whereas, in seeing a colored body, the 
sensation is indifferent, and draws no attention. The 
quality in the body which we call its color is the only 
object of attention ; and therefore we speak of it as if it 
were perceived, and not felt. Though all philosophers 
agree that in seeing color there is sensation, it is not easy 
to persuade the vulgar, that, in seeing a colored body, 
when the light is not too strong, nor the eye inflamed, 
they have any sensation or feeling at all. 

There are some sensations, which, though they are 
very often felt, are never attended to, nor reflected upon. 
We have no conception of them ; and therefore, in lan- 
guage, there is neither any name for them, nor any form of 
speech that supposes their existence. Such are the sen- 
sations of color, and of all primary qualities ; and there- 
fore those qualities are said to be perceived, but not to be 
felt. Taste and smell, and heat and cold, have sensa- 
tions that are often agreeable or disagreeable, in such a 
degree as to draw our attention ; and they are sometimes 
said to be felt, and sometimes to be perceived. When 
disorders of the body occasion very acute pain, the uneasy 
sensation engrosses the attention, and they are said to be 
felt, not to be perceived.* 

* As already repeatedly observed, the objective element (perception) 
and the subjective element (feeling, sensation) are always in the inverse 
ratio of each other. This is a law of which Reid and the philosophers 
were not aware. — H. 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 153 

There is another question relating to phraseology, which 
this subject suggests. A man says, he feels pain in such 
a particular part of his body ; in his toe, for instance. 
Now, reason assures us, that pain, being a sensation, can 
only be in the sentient being as its subject, that is, in the 
mind. And though philosophers have disputed much 
about the place of the mind, yet none of them ever 
placed it in the toe.* What shall we say, then, in this 
case ? Do our senses really deceive us, and make us 
believe a thing which our reason determines to be impos- 
sible ? I answer, first, that, when a man says he has a 
pain in his toe, he is perfectly understood, both by him- 
self and those who hear him. This is all that he intends. 
He really feels what he and all men call a pain in the toe; 
and there is no deception in the matter. Whether, there- 
fore, there be any impropriety in the phrase or not, is of 
no consequence in common life. It answers all the ends 
of speech, both to the speaker and the hearers. 

In all languages, there are phrases which have a distinct 
meaning ; while, at the same time, there may be some- 
thing in the structure of them that disagrees with the 
analogy of grammar, or with the principles of philosophy. 
And the reason is, because language is not made either 
by grammarians or philosophers. Thus we speak of feel- 
ing pain, as if pain was something distinct from the feel- 
ing of it. We speak of a pain coming and going, and 
removing from one place to another. Such phrases are 
meant by those who use them in a sense that is neither 
obscure nor false. But the philosopher puts them into 
his alembic, reduces them to their first principles, draws 
out of them a sense'that was never meant, and so im- 
agines that he has discovered an error of the vulgar. 



* Not in the toe exclusively. But, both in ancient and modern times, 
the opinion has been held that the mind has as much a local presence 
in the toe as in the head. The doctrine, indeed, long generally main- 
tained was, that, in relation to the body, the sovl is all in the whole, and 
all in every part. On the question of the seat of the soul, which has 
been marvellously perplexed, I cannot enter. I shall only say, in gen- 
eral, that the first condition of the possibility of an immediate, intuitive, 
or real perception of external things, which our consciousness assures 
that we possess, is the immediate connection of the cognitive principle 
with every part of the corporeal organism. — H. 



154 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

I observe, secondly, that, when we consider the sen- 
sation of pain by itself, without any respect to its cause, 
we cannot say with propriety that the toe is either the 
place or the subject of it. But it ought to be remem- 
bered, that, when we speak of pain in the toe, the sensa- 
tion is combined in our thought with the cause of it, 
which really is in the toe. The cause and the effect are 
combined in one complex notion, and the same name 
serves for both. It is the business of the philosopher to 
analyze this complex notion, and to give different names 
to its different ingredients. He gives the name of pain 
to the sensation only, and the name of disorder to the 
unknown cause of it. Then it is evident that the dis- 
order only is in the toe, and that it would be an error to 
think that the pain is in it. But we ought not to ascribe 
this error to the vulgar, who never made the distinction, 
and who under the name of pain comprehend both the 
sensation and its cause.* 

Cases sometimes happen, which give occasion even to 
the vulgar to distinguish the painful sensation from the 
disorder which is the cause of it. A man who has had 
his leg cut off, many years after feels pain in a toe of 
that leg. The toe has now no existence ; and he per- 
ceives easily, that the toe can neither be the place nor 
the subject of the pain which he feels : yet it is the same 
feeling he used to have from a hurt in the toe ; and if he 
did not know that his leg was cut off, it would give him 
the same immediate conviction of some hurt or disorder 
in the toe.f 

The same phenomenon may lead the philosopher, in all 
cases, to distinguish sensation from perception. We say, 
that the man had a deceitful feeling, when he felt a pain 

* That the pain is where it is felt is, however, the doctrine of com- 
mon sense. We only feel inasmuch as we have a body and a soul ; 
we only feel pain in the toe inasmuch as we have such a member, 
and inasmuch as the mind, or sentient principle, pervades it. We 
just as much feel in the toe as we think in the head. If (but only if) 
the latter be a vitium subreptionis, as Kant thinks, so is the former. — H. 

t This illustration is Descartes's. If correct, it only shows that the con- 
nection of mind with organization extends from the centre to the cir- 
cumference of the nervous system, and is not limited to any part. — H. 

Mailer makes the fact, as stated in the text, incontestable. Physiology, 
Vol. I. p. 745. — Ed. 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 155 

in bis toe after the Teg was cut off; and we have a true 
meaning in saying so. But, if we will speak accurately, 
our sensations cannot be deceitful ; they must be what we 
feel them to be, and can be nothing else. Where, then, 
lies the deceit ? I answer, it lies not in the sensation, 
which is real, but in the seeming perception he had of a 
disorder in his toe. This perception, which nature had 
conjoined with the sensation, was in this instance falla- 
cious. 

The same reasoning may be applied io every phenom- 
enon that can, with propriety, be called a deception of 
sense. As when one, who has the jaundice, sees a body 
yellow which is really white ; or when a man sees an 
object double, because his eyes are not both directed to 
it ; in these, and other like cases, the sensations we have 
are real, and the deception is only in the perception which 
nature has annexed to them. 

Nature has connected our perception of external ob- 
jects with certain sensations. If the sensation is pro- 
duced, the corresponding perception follows even when 
there is no object, and in this case is apt to deceive us. 
In like manner, nature has connected our sensations with 
certain impressions that are made upon the nerves and 
brain : and, when the impression is made, from whatever 
cause, the corresponding sensation and perception imme- 
diately follow. Thus, in the man who feels pain in his 
toe after the leg is cut off, the nerve that went to the toe, 
part of which was cut off with the leg, had the same im- 
pression made upon the remaining part, which, in the nat- 
ural state of his body, was caused by a hurt in the toe : 
and immediately this impression is followed by the sensa- 
tion and perception which nature connected with it.* 

* This is a doctrine which cannot be reconciled with that of an in- 
tuition or objective perception. All here is subjective. — H. 

In his Supplementary Dissertations, Note D, § 2, Sir W. Hamilton 
returns to this example, modifying somewhat the view he had previ- 
ously entertained : — " Take, for instance, a man whose leg has been 
amputated. If now two nervous filaments be irritated, the one of 
which ran to his great, the other to his little toe, he will experience two 
pains, as in these two members. Nor is there, in propriety, any decep- 
tion in such sensations. For his toes, as all his members, are his only 
as they are to him sentient, as endowed with nerves and distinct nerves. 
The nerves thus constitute alone the ichole sentient organism. In these 



156 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

In like manner, if the same impressions which are 
made at present upon my optic nerves by the objects be- 
fore me could be made in the dark, I apprehend that I 
should have the same sensations, and see the same ob- 
jects which I now see. The impressions and sensations 
would in such a case be real, and the perception only 
fallacious. 

circumstances, the peculiar nerves of the several toes, running isolated 
from centre to periphery, and thus remaining, though curtailed in 
length, unmutilated in function, will, if irritated at any point, continue 
to manifest their original sensations; and these being now, as hereto- 
fore, manifested out of each other, must afford the condition of a per- 
ceived extension, not less real than that which they afforded prior to the 
amputation. 

" The hypothesis of an extended sensorium commune, or complex 
nervous centre, the mind being supposed in proximate connection with 
each of its constituent nervous terminations or origins, may thus be 
reconciled to the doctrine of natural realism. 

"It is, however, I think, more philosophical, to consider the nervous 
system as one whole, with each part of which the animating principle 
is equally and immediately connected, so long as each part remains in 
continuity with the centre. As to the question of materialism, this doc- 
trine is indifferent. For the connection of an unextended with an ex- 
tended substance is equally incomprehensible, whether we contract the 
place of union to a central point, or whether we leave it coextensive 
with organization." 

Several authorities are referred to in support of this view, among 
which are the following: — St. Gregory of Nyssa, De Horn. Opif., cc. 
12, 14, 15 ; Tiedemann, Psychologic, p. 309 et seq. ; Berard, Des Rap- 
ports du Phys. et du Mot., Chap. I. § 2; R. G. Carus, Vorles. ueb. 
Psychologie, passim ; Umbreit, Psychologie, c. I , and Beilage, pas- 
sim ; F. Fischer, Ueb. d. Sitz d. Scele, passim. This theory is also 
supposed to be in accordance with the doctrine of Aristotle, De Jlnima, 
Lib. I. Cap. IX. § 4, " that the soul contains the body, rather than 
the body the soul " ; — a doctrine on which was founded the com- 
mon dogma of the schoolmen, " that the soul is all in the whole body, 
and all in every of its parts," meaning thereby, that the simple, unex- 
tended mind, in some inconceivable manner present to all the organs, 
is percipient of the peculiar affection which each is adapted to receive, 
and actuates each in the peculiar function which it is qualified to dis- 
charge. 

Still the common doctrine, as well with psychologists as with phys- 
iologists, would seem to be, that the brain is the sole organ of the mind, 
and that the mind is peculiarly, if not exclusively, present to that 
organ, by means of which it feels as well as thinks. Compare Des- 
cartes, Les Passions de I'JIme, Partie I. Art. XXX. et seq. ; Hartley's 
Observations on Man, Part I. Chap. I. Sect. I.; Haller's First Lines of 
Physiology, Chap. X. § 372; Gall's Functions of the Brain, Sect. I.; 
Broussais, De V Irritation et de la, Folie, Partie I. Chap. VI. ; Tissot, 
Anthropologic, Partie II. Chap. V. ; Mailer's Physiology, Vol. I. p. 
816 et seq. Most of them hold, that it is only by experience and asso- 
ciation of ideas that we are led to refer the pain which we feel in the 
brain to the part of the body where the cause of the pain exists. — Ed. 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 157 

IV. (3.) Poicers of Bodies.] Let us next consider 
the notions which our senses give us of those attributes 
of bodies called powers. This is the more necessary, 
because power seems to imply some activity ; yet we 
consider body as a dead, inactive thing, which does not 
act, but may be acted upon. 

Of the mechanical powers ascribed to bodies, that 
which is called their vis insita, or inertia, may first be 
considered. By this is meant no more than that bodies 
never change their state of themselves, either from rest to 
motion, or from motion to rest, or from one degree of 
velocity, or one direction, to another. In order to pro- 
duce any such change, there must be some force impress- 
ed upon them ; and the change produced is precisely 
proportioned to the force impressed, and in the direction 
of that force. 

That all bodies have this property is a matter of fact, 
which we learn from daily observation, as well as from 
the most accurate experiments. Now it seems plain, that 
this does not imply any activity in body, but rather the 
contrary. A power in body to change its state would 
much rather imply activity than its continuing in the same 
state : so that, although this property of bodies is called 
their vis insita, or vis inertia, it implies no proper ac- 
tivity. 

If we consider, next, the power of gravity, it is a fact, 
that all the bodies of our planetary system gravitate 
towards each other. This has been fully proved by the 
great Newton. But this gravitation is not conceived by 
that philosopher to be a power inherent in bodies, which 
they exert of themselves, but a force impressed upon 
them, to which they must necessarily yield. Whether 
this force be impressed by some subtile ether, or whether 
it be impressed by the power of the Supreme Being, or 
of some subordinate spiritual being, we do not know ; but 
all sound natural philosophy, particularly that of Newton, 
supposes it to be an impressed force, and not inherent in 
bodies.* 

* That all activity supposes an immaterial or spiritual agent, is an 
ancient doctrine. It is, however, only an hypothesis. — H. 
14 



158 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

So that, when bodies gravitate, they do not properly 
act, but are acted upon. They only yield to an impres- 
sion that is made upon them. It is common in language 
to express, by active verbs, many changes in things, 
wherein they are merely passive. And this way of speak- 
ing is used chiefly when the cause of the change is not 
obvious to sense. Thus we say that a ship sails, when 
every man of common sense knows that she has no inhe- 
rent power of motion, and is only driven by wind and 
tide. In like manner, when we say that the planets 
gravitate towards the sun, we mean no more than that, by 
some unknown power, they are drawn or impelled in that 
direction. 

What has been said of the power of gravitation may 
be applied to other mechanical powers, such as cohesion, 
magnetism, electricity, and no less to chemical and medi- 
cal powers. By all these, certain effects are produced, 
upon the application of one body to another. Our senses 
discover the effect ; but the power is latent. We know 
there must be a cause of the effect, and we form a relative 
notion of it from its effect ; and very often the same name 
is used to signify the unknown cause and the known 
effect. 

We ascribe to vegetables the powers of drawing nour- 
ishment, growing, and multiplying their kind. Here, like- 
wise, the effect is manifest, but the cause is latent to 
sense. These powers, therefore, as well as all the other 
powers we ascribe to bodies, are unknown causes of cer- 
tain known effects. It is the business of philosophy to 
investigate the nature of those powers as far as we are 
able, but our senses leave us in the dark. 

V. Manifest and Occult Qualities.'] We may ob- 
serve a great similarity in the notions which our senses 
give us of secondary qualities, of the disorders we feel in 
our own bodies, and of the various powers of bodies which 
we have enumerated. (1.) They are all obscure and rel- 
ative notions, being a conception of some unknown cause 
of a known effect. (2.) Their names are, for the most 
part,' common to the effect and to its cause. And (3.) 
they are a proper subject of philosophical disquisition. 



OF THE OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION. 159 

They might, therefore, I think, not improperly be called 
occult qualities. 

This name, indeed, has fallen into disgrace since the 
time of Descartes. It is said to have been used by the 
Peripatetics to cloak their ignorance, and to stop all in- 
quiry into the nature of those qualities called occult. Be 
it so. Let those answer for this abuse of the word who 
were guilty of it. To call a thing occult, if we attend to 
the meaning of the word, is rather modestly to confess 
ignorance than to cloak it. It is to point it out as a 
proper subject for the investigation of philosophers, whose 
proper business it is to better the condition of humanity 
by discovering what was before hid from human knowl- 
edge. 

Were I, therefore, to make a division of the qualities of 
bodies as they appear to our senses, I would divide them 
first into those that are manifest, and those that are occult. 
The manifest qualities are those which Mr. Locke calls 
primary ; such as extension, figure, divisibility, motion, 
hardness, softness, fluidity. The nature of these is man- 
ifest even to sense; and the business of the philosopher 
with regard to them is not to find out their nature, which 
is well known, but to discover the effects produced by 
their various combinations; and with regard to those of 
them which are not essential to matter, to discover their 
causes as far as he is able. 

The second class consists of occult qualities, which 
may be subdivided into various kinds; as, first, the sec- 
ondary qualities; secondly, the disorders we feel in our 
own bodies; and, thirdly, all the qualities which we call 
powers of bodies, whether mechanical, chemical, medical, 
animal, or vegetable; or if there be any other powers not 
comprehended under these heads. Of all these the exist- 
ence is manifest to sense, but the nature is occult; and 
here the philosopher has an ample field. 

What is necessary for the conduct of our animal life, 
the bountiful Author of nature has made manifest to all 
men. But there are many other choice se rets of nature, 
the discovery of which enlarges the power and exalts the 
state of man. These are left to be discovered by the 
proper use of our rational powers. They are hid, not 



160 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

that they may be always concealed from human knowl- 
edge, but that we may be excited to search for them. 
This is the proper business of a philosopher, and it is the 
glory of a man, and the best reward of his labor, to dis- 
cover what nature has thus concealed. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF MATTER AND SPACE. 

I. Origin and Characteristics of our Motion of Body , 
or Material Substance.] The objects of sense we have 
hitherto considered are qualities. But qualities must have 
a subject. We give the names of matter, material sub- 
stance, and body, to the subject of sensible qualities: and 
it may be asked what this matter is. 

I perceive in a billiard-ball, figure, color, and motion; 
but the ball is not figure, nor is it color, nor motion, nor 
all these taken together; it is something that has figure, 
and color, and motion. This is a dictate of nature, and 
the belief of all mankind. 

As to the nature of this something, I am afraid we can 
give little account of it but that it has the qualities which 
our senses discover. 

But how do we know that they are qualities, and can- 
not exist without a subject? I confess I cannot explain 
how we know that they cannot exist without a subject, 
any more than I can explain how we know that they 
exist. We have the information of nature for their exist- 
ence; and I think we have the information of nature that 
they are qualities. 

The belief that figure, motion, and color are qualities, 
and require a subject, must either be a judgment of nature, 
or it must be discovered by reason, or it must be a prejudice 
that has no just foundation. There are philosophers who 
maintain that it is a mere prejudice; that a body is nothing 
but a collection of ivliat we call sensible qualities; and that 
they neither have nor need any subject. This is the opinion 



MATTER AND SPACE. 161 

of Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Hume; and they were led to 
it by finding that they had not in their minds any idea of 
substance. It could neither be an idea of sensation nor of 
reflection, the only sources of original and simple ideas 
which they recognized. But to me nothing seems more 
absurd than that there should be extension without any 
thing extended, or motion without any thing moved; yet 
I cannot give reasons for my opinion, because it seems 
to me self-evident, and an immediate dictate of my na- 
ture. 

And that it is the belief of all mankind appears in the 
structure of all languages; in which we find adjective 
nouns used to express sensible qualities. It is well known 
that every adjective in language must belong to some sub- 
stantive expressed or understood; that is, every quality 
must belong to some subject. 

Sensible qualities make so great a part of the furniture 
of our minds, their kinds are so many and their number so 
great, that if prejudice, and not nature, teach us to as- 
cribe them all to a subject, it must have a great work to 
perform, which cannot be accomplished in a short time, 
nor carried on to the same pitch in every individual. We 
should find, not individuals only, but nations and ages dif- 
fering from each other in the progress which this prejudice 
had made in their sentiments; but we find no such differ- 
ence among men. What one man accounts a quality, all 
men do, and ever did. 

It seems, therefore, to be a judgment of nature, that the 
things immediately perceived are qualities, which must be- 
long to a subject; and all the information that our senses 
give us about this subject is, that it is that to which such 
qualities belong. From this it is evident, that our notion 
of body or matter, as distinguished from its qualities, 
is a relative notion ; * and I am afraid it must always be 
obscure until men have other faculties. 

* That is, our notion of absolute body is relative. This is incorrectly 
expressed. We can know, we can conceive, only what is relative. 
Our knowledge of qualities or phenomena is necessarily relative ; for 
these exist only as they exist in relation to our faculties. The knowl- 
edge, or even the conception, of a substance in itself, and apart from any 
qualities in relation to, and therefore cognizable or conceivable by, our 
minds, involves a contradiction. Of such we can form only a negative 

14* 



162 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

The philosopher in this seems to have no advantage 
above the vulgar; for as they perceive color and figure 
and motion by their senses as well as he does, and both 
are equally certain that there is a subject of those qualities, 
so the notions which both have of this subject are equally 
obscure. When the philosopher calls it a substratum, 
and a subject of inhesion, those learned words convey no 
meaning but what every man understands and expresses, 
by saying in common language that it is a thing extended, 
and solid, and movable. 

The relation which sensible qualities bear to their sub- 
ject, that is, to body, is not, however, so dark but that it 
is easily distinguished from all other relations. Every 
man can distinguish it from the relation of an effect to its 
cause, of a mean to its end, or of a sign to the thing sig- 
nified by it. 

I think it requires some ripeness of understanding to 
distinguish the qualities of a body from the body. Per- 
haps this distinction is not made by brutes, nor by infants; 
and if any one thinks that this distinction is not made by 
our senses, but by some other power of the mind, I will 
not dispute this point, provided it be granted that men, 
when their faculties are ripe, have a natural conviction 
that sensible qualities cannot exist by themselves without 
some subject to which they belong. 

I think, indeed, that some of the determinations we 
form concerning matter cannot be deduced solely from the 
testimony of sense, but must be referred to some other 
source. 

There seems to be nothing more evident, than that all 
bodies must consist of parts; and that every part of a body 
is a body, and a distinct being which may exist without 
the other parts; and yet I apprehend this conclusion is 
not deduced solely from the testimony of sense: for be- 
sides that it is a necessary truth, and therefore no object 

notion ; that is, we can merely conceive it as inconceivable. But to call 
this negative notion a relative notion is wrong; 1st, because all our (pos- 
itive) notions are relative ; and, 2d, because this is itself a negative no- 
tion, — i.e. no notion at all, — simply because there is no relation. The 
same improper application of the term relative was also made by Reid 
when speaking of the secondary qualities. — H. 



MATTER AND SPACE. 163 

of sense,* there is a limit beyond which we cannot per- 
ceive any division of a body. The parts become too 
small to be perceived by our senses; but w r e cannot be- 
lieve that it becomes then incapable of being further di- 
vided, or that such division would make it not to be a 
body. We carry on the division and subdivision in our 
thought far beyond the reach of our senses, and we can 
find no end to it: nay, I think we plainly discern, that there 
can be no limit beyond which the division cannot be 
carried. For if there be any limit to this division, one of 
two things must necessarily happen. Either we have come 
by division to a body which is extended, but has no parts, 
and is absolutely indivisible; or this body is divisible, but 
as soon as it is divided it becomes no body. . Both these 
positions seem to me absurd, and one or the other is the 
necessary consequence of supposing a limit to the divisi- 
bility of matter. On the other hand, if it be admitted that 
the divisibility of matter has no limit, it will follow that no 
body can be called one individual substance. You may 
as well call it two, or twenty, or two hundred. For when 
it is divided into parts, every part is a being or substance 
distinct from all the other parts, and was so even before 
the division: any one part may continue to exist, though 
all the other parts are annihilated. 

There is, indeed, a principle long received as an axiom 
in metaphysics, which I cannot reconcile to the divisibil- 
ity of matter. It is, that every being is one, — Omne ens 
est unum. By which, I suppose, is meant, that every thing 
that exists must either be one indivisible being, or com- 
posed of a determinate number of indivisible beings. Thus 
an army may be divided into regiments, a regiment into 
companies, and a company into men. But here the di- 
vision has its limit; for you cannot divide a man without 
destroying him, because he is an individual; and every 
thing, according to this axiom, must be an individual, or 
made up of individuals. 

* It is creditable to Reid that he perceived that the quality of neces- 
sity is the criterion which distinguishes native, from adventitious notions 
or judgments. He did not, however, always make the proper use of 
it. Leibnitz has the honor of first explicitly enouncing this criterion, 
and Kant, of first fully applying it to the phenomena. In none has 
Kant been more successful than in this under consideration. — H. 



164 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

That this axiom will hold with regard to an army, and 
with regard to many other things, must be granted : but I 
require the evidence of its being applicable to all beings 
whatsoever. Leibnitz, conceiving that all beings must 
have this metaphysical unity, was by this led to maintain, 
that matter, and indeed the whole universe, is made up of 
monads, that is, simple and indivisible substances. Per- 
haps the same apprehension might lead Boscovich into his 
hypothesis, which seems much more ingenious; to wit, 
that matter is composed of a definite number of mathemat- 
ical points, endowed with certain powers of attraction and 
repulsion. 

The divisibility of matter without any limit seems to 
me more tenable than either of these hypotheses; nor do 
I lay much stress upon the metaphysical axiom, consid- 
ering its origin. Metaphysicians thought proper to make 
the attributes common to all beings the subject of a sci- 
ence. It must be a matter of some difficulty to find out 
such attributes: and, after racking their invention, they 
have specified three, to wit, unity, verity, and goodness; 
and these, I suppose, have been invented to make a 
number, rather than from any clear evidence of their being 
universal. 

There are other determinations concerning matter, 
which, I think, are not solely founded upon the testimony 
of sense: such as, that it is impossible that two bodies 
should occupy the same place at the same time; or that 
the same body should be in different places at the same 
time; or that a body can be moved from one place to 
another, without passing through the intermediate places, 
either in a .straight course or by some circuit. These 
appear to be necessary truths, and therefore cannot be 
conclusions of our senses; for our senses testify only what 
is, and not what must necessarily be. 

II. Origin and Characteristics of our .Notion of Ex- 
tension, or Space.] We are next to consider our notion 
of space. It may be observed, that although space be 
not perceived by any of our senses when all matter is re- 
moved, yet, when we perceive any of the primary quali- 
ties, space presents itself as a necessary concomitant: for 



MATTER AND SPACE. 165 

there can neither be extension, nor motion, nor figure, 
nor division, nor cohesion of parts, without space. 

There are only two of our senses by which the notion 
of space enters into the mind, — to wit, touch and sight. 
If we suppose a man to have neither of these senses, 1 do 
not see now he could ever have any conception of space.* 
Supposing him to have both, until he sees or feels other 
objects, he can have no notion of space. It has neither 
color nor figure to make it an object of sight; it has no 
tangible quality to make it an object of touch. But other 
objects of sight and touch carry the notion of space along 
with them; and not the notion only, but the belief of it: for 
a body could not exist if there were no space to contain it: 
it could not move if there were no space: its situation, its 
distance, and every relation it has to other bodies, sup- 
pose space. 

* According to Reid, extension (space) is a notion a posteriori, the re- 
sult of experience. According to Kant, it is a priori; experience only 
affording the occasions required by the mind to exert the acts of which 
the intuition of space is a condition. To the former it is thus a contin- 
gent ; to the latter, a necessary mental possession. That the notion of 
space is a necessary condition of thought, and that, as such, it is impos- 
sible to derive it from experience, has been cogently demonstrated by 
Kant. But that we may, through sense, have empirically an immediate 
perception of something extended, I have yet seen no valid reason to 
doubt. The a priori conception does not exclude the a posteriori per- 
ception ; and this latter cannot be rejected without belying the evidence 
of consciousness, which assures us that we are immediately cognizant, 
not only of a self, but of a not-self, — not only of mind, but of matter; and" 
matter cannot be immediately known, — that is, known as existing, — 
except as something extended. In this, however, I venture a step be- 
yond Reid and Stewart, no less than beyond Kant; though I am con- 
vinced that the philosophy of the two former tended to this conclusion, 
which is, in fact, that of the common sense of mankind. — H. 

In his Supplementary Dissertations, Note D, § 1, Sir W. Hamilton re- 
tracts one of the statements in the preceding note. He says : — "I may 
take this opportunity of modifying a former statement, that, according 
to Reid, space is a notion a posteriori, the result of experience. On re- 
considering more carefully his different statements on this subject, I 
am now inclined to think that his language implies no more than the 
chronological posteriority of this notion ; and that he really held it to be 
a native, necessary, a priori form of thought, requiring only certain 
prerequisite conditions to call it from virtual into manifest existence. I 
am confirmed in this view by finding it is also that of M. Royer Collard. 
Mr. Stewart is, however, less defensible, when he says, in opposi- 
tion to Kant's doctrine of space, — 'I rather lean to the common theory 
which supposes our first ideas of space or extension to be formed by 
other qualities of matter.' Dissertation, Notes and Illustrations, Note 
(Ss)." — Ed. 



166 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

But though the notion of space seems not to enter at 
first into the mind until it is introduced by the proper ob- 
jects of sense, yet, being once introduced, it remains in 
our conception and belief, though the objects which intro- 
duced it be removed. We see no absurdity in supposing 
a body to be annihilated; but the space that contained it 
remains, and to suppose that annihilated seems to be ab- 
surd. It is so much allied to nothing or emptiness, that 
it seems incapable of annihilation or of creation. 

Space not only retains a firm hold of our belief, even 
when we suppose all the objects that introduced it to be 
annihilated, but it swells to immensity. We can set no 
limits to it, either of extent or of duration. Hence we call 
it immense, eternal, immovable, and indestructible. 

But it is only an immense, eternal, immovable, and 
indestructible void or emptiness. Perhaps we may apply 
to it what the Peripatetics said of their first matter, — 
that whatever it is, it is potentially only, not actually. 

When we consider parts of space that have measure 
and figure, there is nothing we understand better, nothing 
about which we can reason so clearly and to so great ex- 
tent. Extension and figure are circumscribed parts of 
space, and are the object of geometry, a science in which 
human reason has the most ample field, and can go deeper 
and with more certainty than in any other. But when we 
attempt to comprehend the whole of space, and to trace it 
to its origin, we lose ourselves in the search. The pro- 
found speculations of ingenious men upon this subject differ 
so widely, as may lead us to suspect that the line of hu- 
man understanding is too short to reach the bottom of it. 

Bishop Berkeley, I think, was the first who observed 
that the extension, figure, and space of which we speak 
in common language, and of which geometry treats, are 
originally perceived by the sense of touch only; but that 
there is a notion of extension, figure, and space which 
may be got by sight, without any aid from touch. To 
distinguish these, he calls the first tangible extension, 
tangible figure, and tangible space ; the last he calls 
visible. 

As I think this distinction very important in the philos- 
ophy of our senses, I shall adopt the names used by the 



MATTER AND SPACE. 167 

inventor to express it ; remembering what has been 
already observed, that space, whether tangible or visible, 
is not so properly an object of sense as a necessary con- 
comitant of the objects both of sight and touch. 

The reader may likewise be pleased to attend to this, 
that when I use the names of tangible and visible space, 
I do not mean to adopt Bishop Berkeley's opinion, so 
far as to think that they are really different things, and 
altogether unlike. I take them to be different concep- 
tions of the same thing ; the one very partial, and the 
other more complete ; but both distinct and just, as far 
as they reach. 

Thus, when I see a spire at a very great distance, it 
seems like the point of a bodkin ; there appears no vane 
at the top, no angles. But when I view the same object 
at a small distance, I see a huge pyramid of several 
angles with a vane on the top. Neither of these appear- 
ances is fallacious. Each of them is what it ought to be, 
and what it must be, from such an object seen at such 
different distances. These different appearances of the 
same object may serve to illustrate the different concep- 
tions of space, according as they are drawn from the in- 
formation of sight alone, or as they are drawn from the 
additional information of touch. 

Our sight alone, unaided by touch, gives a very partial 
notion of space, but yet a distinct one. When it is con- 
sidered according to this partial notion, I call it visible 
space. The sense of touch gives a much more complete 
notion of space ; and when it is considered according to 
this notion, I call it tangible space. Perhaps there may 
be intelligent beings of a higher order, whose conceptions 
of space are much more complete than those we have 
from both senses. Another sense added to those of sight 
and touch might, for what I know, give us conceptions 
of space, as different from those we can now attain as 
tangible space is from visible ; and might resolve many 
knotty points concerning it, which, from the imperfection 
of our faculties, we cannot by any labor untie.* 

* On the origin of the notion of space and its relation to that of body, 
compare Cousin, Elements of Psychology, Chap. II. 

He makes the distinguishing characteristics of space to be as follows: 



168 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

III. Visible and Tangible Extension.] Berkeley ac- 
knowledges that there is an exact correspondence be- 
tween the visible figure and magnitude of objects and the 
tangible ; and that every modification of the one has a 
modification of the other corrresponding. He acknowl- 
edges, likewise, that nature has established such a connec- 
tion between the visible figure and magnitude of an object 
and the tangible, that we learn by experience to know 
the tangible figure and magnitude from the visible. And 
having been accustomed to do so from infancy, we get 

— 1. Space is given us as necessary, while body is given as that which 
may or may not exist ; 2. Space is given us as without limits, while 
body is given as limited on every side ; 3. The idea of space is a pure 
and wholly rational conception, that is, we cannot bring it up before us 
under any determinate form or image, while the idea of body is always 
accompanied with an image, a sensible representation. 

In tracing these ideas to their origin, he is led to notice two orders of 
relations among our ideas which it is important clearly to distinguish in 
respect not only to space, but to all our a priori conceptions. 

"Two ideas being given, we may inquire whether the one does not 
suppose the other; whether, the one being admitted, we must not admit 
the. other likewise, or be guilty of a paralogism. This is the logical 
order of ideas. If we regard the question of the origin of ideas un- 
der this point of view, let us see what result it will give in respect to 
the particular inquiry before us. The idea of body and the idea of 
space being given, which supposes the other? Which is the logical con- 
dition of the admission of the other? Evidently the idea of space is 
the logical condition of the admission of the idea of body. In fact, 
take any body you please, and you cannot admit the idea of it but un- 
der the condition of admitting, at the same time, the idea of space : 
otherwise you would admit a body which was nowhere, which was in 
no place, and such a body is inconceivable. 

" But this is not the sole order of cognition ; the logical relation does 
not comprise all the relations which ideas mutually sustain. There is 
still another, that of anterior or posterior, the order of the relative de- 
velopment of ideas in time, — their chronological order. And the ques- 
tion of the origin of ideas may be regarded under this point of view. 
Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly the logical condi- 
tion of all sensible experience. Is it also the chronological condition of 
all experience, and of the idea of body ? I believe no such thing. If 
we take ideas in the order in which they actually evolve themselves 
in the intelligence, if we investigate only their history and successive 
appearance, it is not true that the idea of space is antecedent to the 
idea of body. Indeed, it is so little true, that the idea of space chrono- 
logically supposes the idea of body, that, in fact, if you had not the 
idea of body, you would never have the idea of space. Take away 
sensation, take away the sight and touch, and you have no longer any 
idea of body, and consequent!}' none of space." 

His conclusion is, that our notion of body is empirical, — that is to 
say, derived from experience, or a posteriori ; but our notion of space, 
though developed on occasion of experience, is not derived from it, in- 



MATTER AND SPACE. 169 

the habit of doing it with such facility and quickness, that 
we think we see tangible figure, magnitude, and distance 
of bodies, when, in reality, we only collect those tangible 
qualities from the corresponding visible qualities, which 
are natural signs of them. 

The correspondence and connection which Berkeley 
shows to be between the visible figure and magnitude of 
objects and their tangible figure and magnitude, is in 
some respects very similar to that which we have observ- 
ed between our sensations and the primary qualities with 



asmuch as experience does not contain it in any other sense than as, in 
the view of reason, it presupposes it. Experience does not give the 
notion of space to reas»n, but reason gives it to experience ; and hence 
it is said to be not empirical, but a necessary and a priori conception of 
the reason. 

Others still maintain that the notion of space is wholly empirical, 
being nothing but one of the sensible qualities of body considered ab- 
stractly.. Of these psychologists, the ablest, perhaps, is James Mill, who 
says, — " Concrete terms are counotative terms ; abstract terms are non- 
connotative terms. Concrete terms, along with a certain quality or 
qualities, which is their principal meaning, or notation, connote the ob- 
ject to which the quality belongs. Thus the concrete red always 
means, that is, connotes, something red, as a rose. We have already 
by sufficient examples seen, that the Abstract formed from the Con- 
crete notes precisely that which is noted by the Concrete, leaving out 
the connotation. Thus, take away the connotation from red, and you 
have redness ; from hot, take away the connotation, and you have heat. 
The very same is the distinction between the concrete extended, and 
the abstract extension. What extended is with its connotation, exten- 
sion is without that connotation." 

According to him, therefore, the \v ox <P space, understood in its most 
comprehensive sense, or infinite extension, " is an abstract, differing 
from its concrete, like other abstracts, by dropping the connotation. 
Much of the mystery in which the idea has seemed to be involved is 
owing to this single circumstance, that the abstract term space has not 
had an appropriate concrete. We have observed, that in all cases ab- 
stract terms can be explained only through their concretes ; because 
they note or name a part of what the concrete names, leaving out the 
rest. If we were to make a concrete term, corresponding to the abstract 
term space, it must be a word equivalent to the terms infinitely extend- 
ed. From the ideas included under the name infinitely extended leave 
out resisting, and you have all that is marked by the abstract space." — 
.Analysis of the Human Mind, Chap. XIV. Sect. IV. 

See also Kant's Critic of Pure Reason, Part I. Sect. I. ; Fearn's First 
Lines of the Human Mind, Chap. V. ; VVhewelFs Philosophy of the In- 
ductive Sciences, Part I. Book II. Chap. I.- VI. ; Brown's Philosophy of 
the Human Mind, Lect. XXIV. ; Ballantyne's Examination of the Hu- 
man Mind, Chap, I. Sect. I.; Brook Taylor's Contemplatio Pltilosoph- 
ica, p. 45 et seq. ; Hickok's Rational Psychology, Book II. Part I. 
Chap. I. — Ed. 

15 



170 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

which they are connected. No sooner is the sensation 
felt, than immediately we have the conception and belief 
of the corresponding quality. We give no attention to 
the sensation ; it has not a name ; and it is difficult to 
persuade us that there was any such thing. 

In like manner, no sooner are the visible figure and 
magnitude of an object seen, than immediately we have 
the conception and belief of the corresponding tangible 
figure and magnitude. We give no attention to the visi- 
ble figure and magnitude. They are immediately forgot, 
as if they had never been perceived ; they have no name 
in common language ; and, indeed, until Berkeley pointed 
them out as a subject of speculation, and gave them a 
name, they had none among philosophers, excepting in 
one instance, relating to the heavenly bodies, which are 
beyond the reach of touch. With regard to them, what 
Berkeley calls visible magnitude was by astronomers call- 
ed apparent magnitude. 

There is surely an apparent magnitude and an appar- 
ent figure of terrestrial objects, as well as of celestial ; and 
this is what Berkeley calls their visible figure and mag- 
nitude. But they were never made an object of thought 
among philosophers, until that author gave them a name, 
and observed the correspondence and connection between 
them and tangible magnitude and figure, and how the mind 
gets the habit of passing so instantaneously from the visible 
figure, as a sign, to the tangible figure, as the thing signi- 
fied by it, that the first is perfectly forgot, as if it had 
never been perceived. 

Visible figure, extension, and space may be made a 
subject of mathematical speculation, as well as the tangi- 
ble. In the visible, we find two dimensions only ; in the 
tangible, three. In the one, magnitude is measured by 
angles ; in the other, by lines. Every part of visible 
space bears some proportion to the whole ; but tangible 
space being immense, any part of it bears no proportion 
to the whole. 

Such differences in their properties led Bishop Berke- 
ley to think, that visible and tangible magnitude and fig- 
ure are things totally different and dissimilar, and cannot 
both belong to the same object. And upon this dissimili- 



MATTER AND SPACE. 171 

tude is grounded one of the strongest arguments by which 
his system is supported. For it may be said, if there be 
external objects which have a real extension and figure, 
it must be either tangible extension and figure, or visible, 
or both.* The last appears absurd ; nor was it ever 
maintained by any man, that the same object has two 
kinds of extension and figure, totally dissimilar. There 
is, then, only one of the two really in the object ; and 
the other must be ideal. But no reason can be assigned 
why the perceptions of one sense should be real, while 
those of another are only ideal ; and he who is persuaded 
that the objects of sight are ideas only has equal reason 
to believe so of the objects of touch. 

This argument, however, loses all its force, if it be 
true, as was formerly hinted, that visible figure and ex- 
tension are only a partial conception, and the tangible 
figure and extension a more complete conception of that 
figure and extension which are really in the object. 

It has been proved very fully by Bishop Berkeley, that 
sight alone, without any aid from the informations of 
touch, gives us no perception, nor even conception, of the 
distance of any object from the eye. But he was not 
aware that this very principle overturns the argument for 
his system, taken from the difference between visible and 
tangible extension and figure : for, supposing external ob- 
jects to exist, and to have that tangible extension and fig- 
ure which we perceive, it follows demonstrably, from the 
principle now mentioned, that their visible extension and 
figure must be just what we see them to be. The rules 
of perspective, and of the projection of the sphere, which 
is a branch of perspective, are demonstrable. They sup- 
pose the existence of external objects, which have a tan- 
gible extension and figure ; and, upon that supposition, 
they demonstrate what must be the visible extension and 
figure of such objects, when placed in such a position 
and at such a distance. 

Hence it is evident, that the visible figure and exten- 
sion of objects are so far from being incompatible with the 

* Or neither. And this omitted supposition is the true. For neither 
sight nor touch gives us full and accurate information in regard to the 
real extension and figure of objects. — H. 



172 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

tangible, that the first are a necessary consequence from the 
last, in beings that see as we do. The correspondence 
between them is not arbitrary, like that between words 
and the thing they signify, as Berkeley thought ; but it 
results necessarily from the nature of the two senses ; 
and this correspondence being always found in experience 
to be exactly what the rules of perspective show that it 
ought to be if the senses give true information, is an ar- 
gument for the truth of both. 



CHAPTER X. 



OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE, AND OF BELIEF IN 
GENERAL. 

I. On Belief in general, and the Different Kinds of 
Evidence.'] Belief assent, conviction, are words which 
I think do not admit of logical definition, because the 
operation of mind signified by them is perfectly sim- 
ple, and of its own kind. Nor do they need to be 
defined, because they are common words, and well un- 
derstood. 

Belief must have an object. For he that believes must 
believe something ; and that which he believes is called 
the object of his belief. Of this object of his belief, he 
must have some conception, clear or obscure ; for al- 
though there may be the most clear and distinct concep- 
tion of an object without any belief of its existence, there 
can be no belief without conception. 

Belief is always expressed in language by a proposition, 
wherein something is affirmed or denied. This is the 
form of speech which in all languages is appropriated to 
that purpose, and without belief there could be neither 
affirmation nor denial, nor should we have any form of 
words to express either. Belief admits of all degrees, 
from the slightest suspicion to the fullest assurance. 
These things are so evident to every man that reflects, 
that it would be abusing the reader's patience to dwell 
upon them. 



OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE. 173 

I proceed to observe, that there are many operations 
of mind in which, when we analyze them as far as we are 
able, we find belief to be an essential ingredient. A man 
cannot be conscious of his own thoughts, without believ- 
ing that he thinks. He cannot perceive an object of 
sense, without believing that it exists.* He cannot dis- 
tinctly remember a past event, without believing that it 
did exist. Belief, therefore, is an ingredient in conscious- 
ness, in perception, and in remembrance. 

Not only in most of our intellectual operations, but in 
many of the active principles of the human mind, belief 
enters as an ingredient. Joy and sorrow, hope and fear, 
imply a belief of good or ill, either present or in expecta- 
tion. Esteem, gratitude, pity, and resentment imply a 
belief of certain qualities in their objects. In every ac- 
tion that is done for an end, there must be a belief of its 
tendency to that end. So large a share has belief in our 
intellectual operations, in our active principles, and in 
our actions themselves, that as faith in things divine is 
represented as the mainspring in the life of a Christian, 

* Mr. Stewart, Elements, Part I. Chap. III., and Essays, II. Chap. 
II , proposes a supplement to this doctrine of Reid, in order to explain 
why we helieve in the existence of the qualities of external objects 
when they are not the objects of our perception. This belief he holds 
to be the result of experience, in combination with an original principle 
of our constitution, whereby we are determined to believe in the perma- 
nence of the laws of nature. — H. 

Mr. Stewart's words are: — "It has always appeared to me, that 
something of this sort was necessary to complete Dr. Reid's specula- 
tions on the Berkeleian controversy ; for, although he has shown our 
notions concerning the primary qualities of bodies to be connected, by 
an original law of our constitution, with the sensations which they ex- 
cite in our minds, he has taken no notice of the grounds of our belief 
that these qualities have an existence independent of our perceptions. 
This belief (as I have elsewhere observed) is plainly the result of expe- 
rience; inasmuch as a repetition of the perceptive act must have been 
prior to any judgment, on our part, with respect to the separate and 
permanent reality of its object. Nor does experience afford a complete 
solution of the problem ; for, as we are irresistibly led by our percep- 
tions to ascribe to their objects a future, as well as a present, realitv, 
the question still remains, how are we determined by the experience 
of the past to carry our inferences forward to a portion of time which 
is yet to come. To myself, the difficulty appears to resolve itself, in the 
simplest and most philosophical manner, into that law of our constitu- 
tion to which Turgot, long ago, attempted to trace it, — into our belief 
of the continuance of' the laws of nature' ; or, in other words, into an 
expectation that, in the same combination of circumstances, the same 
event will recur." — Ed. 

15* 



174 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

so belief in general is the mainspring in the life of a 
man. 

That men often believe what there is no just ground to 
believe, and thereby are led into hurtful errors, is too evi- 
dent to be denied : and, on the other hand, that there are 
just grounds of belief can as little be doubted by any man 
who is not a perfect skeptic. 

We give the name of evidence to whatever is a ground 
of belief. To believe without evidence is a weakness 
which every man is concerned to avoid, and which every 
man wishes to avoid. Nor is it in a man's power to be- 
lieve any thing longer than he thinks he has evidence. 

What this evidence is, is more easily felt than describ- 
ed. Those who never reflected upon its nature feel its 
influence in govefning their belief. It is the business of 
the logician to explain its nature, and to distinguish its 
various kinds and degrees ; but every man of understand- 
ing can judge of it, and commonly judges right, when the 
evidence is fairly laid before him, and his mind is free 
from prejudice. A man who knows nothing of the theory 
of vision may have a good eye ; and a man who never 
speculated about evidence in the abstract may have a 
good judgment. 

The common occasions of life lead us to distinguish 
evidence into different kinds, to which we give names that 
are well understood ; such as the evidence of sense, the 
evidence of memory, the evidence of consciousness, the 
evidence of testimony, the evidence of axioms> the evi- 
dence of reasoning. All men of common understanding 
agree, that each of these kinds of evidence may afford 
just ground of belief, and they agree very generally in the 
circumstances that strengthen or weaken them. 

Philosophers have endeavoured, by analyzing the dif- 
ferent sorts of evidence, to find out some common nature 
wherein they all agree, and thereby to reduce them all to 
one. This was the aim of the schoolmen in their intricate 
disputes about the criterion of truth. Descartes placed 
this criterion of truth in clear and distinct perception, 
and laid it down as a maxim, that whatever we clearly 
and distinctly perceive to be true is true ; but it is diffi- 
cult to know what he understands by clear and distinct 



OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE. 175 

perception in this maxim.* Mr. Locke placed it in a 
perception of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, 
which perception is immediate in intuitive knowledge, and 
by the intervention of other ideas in reasoning. 

I confess that, although I have, as I think, a distinct 
notion of the different kinds of evidence above mentioned, 
and perhaps of some others, which it is unnecessary here 
to enumerate, yet I am not able to find any common na- 
ture to which they may all be reduced. They seem to 
me to agree only in this, that they are all fitted, by nature 
to produce belief in the human mind, — some of them in 
the highest degree, which we call certainty, others in 
various degrees according to circumstances. 

II. On the Peculiar JYature of the Evidence of /Sense.] 
I shall take it for granted, that the evidence of sense, 
when the proper circumstances concur, is good evidence, 
and a just ground of belief. My intention in this place is 
only to compare it with the other kinds that have been 
mentioned, that we may judge whether it be reducible to 
any of them, or of a nature peculiar to itself. 

1. It seems to be quite different from the evidence of 
reasoning. All good evidence is commonly called rea- 
sonable evidence, and very justly, because it ought to 
govern our belief as reasonable creatures. And, accord- 
ing to this meaning, I think the evidence of sense no less 
reasonable than that of demonstration. If nature give us 
information of things that concern us by other means than 
by reasoning, reason itself will direct us to receive that 
information with thankfulness, and to make the best use 
of it. But when we speak of the evidence of reasoning 
as a particular kind of evidence, it means the evidence of 
propositions that are inferred by reasoning from proposi- 
tions already known and believed. Thus the evidence of 
the fifth proposition of the first book of Euclid's Elements 
consists in this, — that it is shown to be the necessary 
consequence of the axioms, and of the preceding proposi- 



* On the purport of this maxim consult Descartes's Principes de la 
Pkilosophie, I ere Partie, 42 - 47 ; Lettres sur les Instances de Gassendi, 
No. 10 ; and Ilpme et jyeme Meditations. — Ed. 



176 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

tions. In all reasoning, there must be one or more prem- 
ises, and a conclusion drawn from them. And the prem- 
ises are called the reason why we must believe the con- 
clusion which we see to follow from them. 

That the evidence of sense is of a different kind needs 
little proof. No man seeks a reason for believing what 
he sees or feels ; and if he did, it would be difficult to 
find one. But though he can give no reason for believ- 
ing his senses, his belief remains as firm as if it were 
grounded on demonstration. 

Many eminent philosophers, thinking it unreasonable to 
believe when they could not show a reason, have labored 
to furnish us with reasons for believing our senses ; but 
their reasons are very insufficient, and will not bear exam- 
ination. Other philosophers have shown very clearly the 
fallacy of these reasons, and have, as they imagine, dis- 
covered invincible reasons against this belief ; but they 
have never been able either to shake it in themselves, or 
to convince others. The statesman continues to plod, 
the soldier to fight, and the merchant to export and im- 
port, without being in the least moved by the demonstra- 
tions that have been offered of the non-existence of those 
things about which they are so seriously employed. And 
a man may as soon, by reasoning, pull the moon out of 
her orbit, as destroy the belief of the objects of sense. 

2. Shall we say, then, that the evidence of sense is the 
same with that of axioms, or self-evident truths ? I an- 
swer, first, that all modern philosophers seem to agree, 
that the existence of the objects of sense is not self-evi- 
dent, because some of them have endeavoured to prove it 
by subtle reasoning, others to refute it. Neither of these 
can consider it as self-evident. 

Secondly, I would observe, that the word axiom is 
taken by philosophers in such a sense, as that the exist- 
ence of the objects of sense cannot, with propriety, be 
called an axiom. They give the name of axiom only to 
self-evident truths that are necessary, and are not limited 
to time and place, but must be true at all times and in all 
places. The truths attested by our senses are not of this 
kind ; they are contingent, and limited to time and place. 
Thus, that one is the half of two, is an axiom. It is 



OF THE EVIDENCE OF SENSE. 177 

equally true at all times and in all places. We perceive, 
by attending to the proposition itself, that it cannot but be 
true ; and therefore it is called an eternal, necessary, and 
immutable truth. That there is at present a chair on my 
right hand, and another on my left, is a fcruth attested by 
my senses ; but it is not necessary, nor eternal, nor im- 
mutable. It may not be true next minute ; and, therefore, 
to call it an axiom would, I apprehend, be to deviate 
from the common use of the word. 

Thirdly, If the word axiom be put to signify every 
truth which is knoivn immediately, without being deduced 
from any antecedent truth, then the existence of the ob- 
jects of sense may be called an axiom. For my senses 
give me as immediate conviction of what they testify, as 
my understanding gives me of what is commonly called 
an axiom. 

3. There is no doubt an analogy between the evidence 
of sense and the evidence of testimony. Hence we find 
in all languages the analogical expressions of the testimony 
of sense, of giving credit to our senses, and the like. But 
there is a real difference between the two, as well as a 
similitude. In believing upon testimony, we rely upon 
the authority of a person who testifies : but we have no 
such authority for believing our senses. 

4. Shall we say, then, that this belief is the inspiration 
of the Mmighty ? I think this may be said in a good 
sense ; for I take it to be the immediate effect of our 
constitution, which is the work of the Almighty. • But if 
inspiration be understood to imply a persuasion of its 
coming from God, our belief of the objects of sense is not 
inspiration ; for a man would believe his senses, though 
he had no notion of a Deity. He who is persuaded that 
he is the workmanship of God, and that it is a part of his 
constitution to believe his senses, may think that a good 
reason to confirm his belief : but he had the belief before 
he could give this or any other reason for it. 

5. If we compare the evidence of sense with that of 
memory, we find a great resemblance, but still some differ- 
ence. I remember distinctly to have dined yesterday 
with such a company. What is the meaning of this ? It 
is, that I have a distinct conception and firm belief of this 



178 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

past event ; not by reasoning, not by testimony, but im- 
mediately from my constitution : and I give the name of 
memory to that part of my constitution by which I have 
this kind of conviction of past events. I see a chair on 
my right hand. * What is the meaning of this ? It is, that 
I have, by my constitution, a distinct conception and firm 
belief of the present existence of the chair in such a 
place, and in such a position ; and I give the name of see- 
ing to that part of my constitution by which I have this 
immediate conviction. The two operations agree in the 
immediate conviction which they give. They agree in 
this also, that the things believed are not necessary, but 
contingent, and limited to time and place. But they dif- 
fer in two respects : — First, that memory has something 
for its object that did exist in time past ; but the object of 
sight, and of all the senses, must be something which ex- 
ists at present. And, secondly, that I see by my eyes, 
and only when they are directed to the object, and when 
it is illuminated. But my memory is not limited by any 
bodily organ that I know, nor by light and darkness, 
though it has its limitations of another kind.* 

6. As to the opinion, that evidence consists in a per- 
ception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, we may 
have occasion to consider it more particularly in another 
place. Here I only observe, that, when taken in the 
most favorable sense, it may be applied with propriety to 
the evidence of reasoning, and to the evidence of some 
axioms? But I cannot see how, in any sense, it can be 
applied to the evidence of consciousness, to the evidence 
of memory, or to that of the senses. 

When I compare the different kinds of evidence above 
mentioned, I confess, after all, that the evidence of rea- 
soning, and that of some necessary and self-evident truths, 
seem to be the least mysterious and the most perfectly 
comprehended ; and therefore I do not think it strange 
that philosophers should have endeavoured to reduce all 
kinds of evidence to these. 

* There is a more important difference than these omitted. In mem- 
ory, we cannot possibly be conscious, or immediately cognizant, of any 
object beyond the modifications of the ego itself. In perception (if an 
immediate perception be allowed) we must be conscious, or immediately 
cognizant, of some phenomenon of the non-ego. — H. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 179 

When I see a proposition to be self-evident and neces- 
sary, and that the subject is plainly included in the predi- 
cate, there seems to be nothing more that I can desire, in 
order to understand why I believe it. And when I see a 
consequence that necessarily follows from one or more 
self-evident propositions, I want nothing more with regard 
to my belief of that consequence. The light of truth so 
fills my mind in these cases, that I can neither conceive 
nor desire any thing more satisfying. 

On the other hand, when I remember distinctly a past 
event, or see an object before my eyes, this commands 
my belief no less than an axiom. But when, as a phi- 
losopher, I reflect upon this belief, and want to trace it to 
its origin, I am not able to resolve it into necessary and 
self-evident axioms, or conclusions that are necessarily 
consequent upon them. I seem to want that evidence 
which I can best comprehend, and which gives perfect 
satisfaction to an inquisitive mind ; yet it is ridiculous to 
doubt, and I find it is not in my power.* 



CHAPTER XI. 

OF THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 

I. In what Respects our Senses are and are not Improv- 
able.'] Our senses may be considered in two views ; 
first, as they afford us agreeable sensations, or subject us 
to such as are disagreeable ; and, secondly, as they give 
us information of things that concern us. 

* If an immediate knowledge of external things — that is, a conscious- 
ness of the qualities of the non-ego — be admitted, the belief of their 
existence follows of course. On this supposition, therefore, such a be- 
lief would not be unaccountable ; for it would be accounted for by the 
fact of the knowledge in which it would necessarily be contained. Our 
belief, in this case, of the existence of external objects, would not be 
more inexplicable than our belief that 2 + 2 = 4. In both cases it 
would be sufficient to say, ice believe because xoe know; for belief is only 
unaccountable when it is not the consequent or concomitant of knowl-" 
edge. By this, however, I do not, of course, mean to say that knowl- 
edge is not in itself marvellous and unaccountable. — H. 



180 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

In the first view, they neither require nor admit of im- 
provement. Both the painful and the agreeable sensa- 
tions of our external senses are given by nature for certain 
ends ; and they are given in that degree which is the most 
proper for their end. By diminishing or increasing them, 
we should not mend, but mar, the work of nature. 

Bodily pains are indications of some disorder or hurt 
of the body, and admonitions to use the best means in our 
power to prevent or remove their causes. As far as this 
can be done by temperance, exercise, regimen, or the 
skill of the physician, every man has sufficient induce- 
ment to do it. 

When pain cannot be prevented or removed, it is 
greatly alleviated by patience and fortitude of mind. 
While the mind is superior to pain, the man is not unhap- 
py, though he may be exercised. It leaves no sting be- 
hind it, but rather matter of triumph and agreeable reflec- 
tion, when borne properly, and in a go.od cause. The 
Canadians have taught us, that even savages may acquire 
a superiority to the most excruciating pains ; and, in 
every region of the earth, instances will be found where 
a sense of duty, of honor, or even of worldly interest, 
has triumphed over it. 

It is evident, that nature intended for man, in his pres- 
ent state, a life of labor and toil, wherein he may be oc- 
casionally exposed to pain and danger : and the happiest 
man is not he who has felt least of those evils, but he 
whose mind is fitted to bear them by real magnanimity. 

Our active and perceptive powers are improved and per- 
fected by use and exercise. This is the constitution of 
nature. But, with regard to the agreeable and disagree- 
able sensations we have by our senses, the very contrary 
is an established constitution of nature : the frequent repe- 
tition of them iveakens their force. Sensations at first 
very disagreeable by use become tolerable, and at last 
perfectly indifferent. And those that are at first very 
agreeable by frequent repetition become insipid, and at 
last perhaps give disgust. Nature has set limits to the 
pleasures of sense, which we cannot pass ; and all studied 
gratification of them, as it is mean and unworthy of a man, 
so it is foolish and fruitless. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 181 

The man who, in eating and drinking, and in other 
gratifications of sense, obeys the calls of nature, without 
affecting delicacies and refinements, has all the enjoyment 
that the senses can afford. If one could, by a soft and 
luxurious life, acquire a more delicate sensibility to pleas- 
ure, it must be at the expense of a like sensibility to 
pain, from which he can never promise exemption ; and 
at the expense of cherishing many diseases which produce 
pain. 

The improvement of our external senses, as they are 
the means of giving us information, is a subject more 
worthy of our attention : for although they are not the 
noblest and most exalted powers of our nature, yet they 
are not the least useful. All that we know or can know 
of the material world must be grounded upon their in- 
formation ; and the philosopher, as well as the day-labor- 
er, must be indebted to them for the largest part of his 
knowledge. 

II. Original and Acquired Perceptions.] Some of 
our perceptions by the senses may be called original, be- 
cause they require no previous experience or learning ; 
but the far greater part is acquired, and the fruit of ex- 
perience. 

Three of our senses — to wit, smell, taste, and hearing — 
originally give us only certain sensations, and a conviction 
that these sensations are occasioned by some external ob- 
ject. We give a name to that quality of the object by 
which it is fitted to produce such a sensation, and con- 
nect that quality with the object and with its other quali- 
ties. 

Thus we learn, that a certain sensation of smell is pro- 
duced by a rose ; and that quality in the rose, by which 
it is fitted to produce this sensation, we call the smell of 
the rose. Here it is evident that the sensation is original. 
The perception, that the rose has that quality which we 
call its smell, is acquired. In like manner, we learn all 
those qualities in bodies which we call their smell, their 
taste, their sound. These are all secondary qualities, 
and we give the same name to them which we give to the 
sensations they produce ; not from any similitude be- 
16 



182 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

tween the sensation and the quality of the same name, 
but because the quality is signified to us by the sensation 
as its sign, and because our senses give us no other 
knowledge of the quality than that it is fit to produce such 
a sensation. 

By the other two senses, we have much more ample 
information. By sight, we learn to distinguish objects by 
their color, in the same manner as by their sound, taste, 
and smell. By this sense, we perceive visible objects to 
have extension in two dimensions, to have visible figure 
and magnitude, and a certain angular distance from one 
another. These, I conceive, are the original perceptions 
of sight.* 

By touch, we not only perceive the temperature of 
bodies as to heat and cold,f which are secondary quali- 
ties, but we perceive originally their three dimensions, 
their tangible figure and magnitude, their linear distance 
from one another, their hardness, softness, or fluidity. 
These qualities we originally perceive by touch only ; 
but, by experience, we learn to perceive all or most of 
them by sight. 

We learn to perceive, by one sense, what originally 
could have been perceived only by another, by finding a 



* In another connection, speaking of the perceptions of sight, Sir W. 
Hamilton has said : — "It is incorrect to say that ' we see the object,' 
(meaning the thing from which the rays come by emanation or reflec- 
tion, but lohich is unknown and incognizable by sight.) and so forth. It 
would be more correct to describe vision, — a perception, by which we 
take immediate cognizance of light in relation to our organ, — that is 
as diffused and figured upon the retina, under various modifications of 
degree and kind, (brightness and color,) — and likewise as falling on it 
in a particular direction. The image on the retina is not itself an object 
of visual perception. It is only to be regarded as the complement of 
those points, or of that sensitive surface, on which the rays impinge, 
and with which they enter into relation. The total object of visual 
perception is thus neither the rays in themselves, nor the organ in it- 
self, but the rays and the living organ in reciprocity : this organ is not, 
however, to be viewed as merely the retina, but as the whole tract of 
nervous fibre pertaining to the sense. In an act of vision, so also in the 
other sensitive acts, I am thus conscious, (the word should not be re- 
stricted to self-consciousness,) or immediately cognizant, not only of 
the affections of self, but of the phenomena of something different from 
self, both, however, always in relation to each other." — Ed. 

t Whether heat, cold, &c, be objects of touch, or of a different sense, 
has been considered in a former note. — Ed. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 183 

connection between the objects of the different senses. 
Hence the original perceptions, or the sensations, of one 
sense, become signs of whatever has always been found 
connected with them ; and from the sign the mind passes 
immediately to the conception and belief of the thing 
signified : and although the connection in the mind be- 
tween the sign and the thing signified by it be the effect 
of custom, this custom becomes a second nature, and it 
is difficult to distinguish it from the original power of per- 
ception. 

Thus, if a sphere of one uniform color be set before 
me, I perceive evidently by my eye its spherical figure 
and its three dimensions. All the world will acknowl- 
edge, that by sight only, without touching it, I may be 
certain that it is a sphere ; yet it is no less certain, that, 
by the original power of sight, I could not perceive it to 
be a sphere, and to have three dimensions. The eye 
originally could only perceive two dimensions, and a 
gradual variation of color on the different sides of the ob- 
ject. It is experience that teaches me that the variation 
of color is an effect of spherical convexity, and of the dis- 
tribution of light and shade. But so rapid is the progress 
of the thought from the effect to the cause, that we at- 
tend only to the last, and can hardly be persuaded that 
we do not immediately see the three dimensions of the 
sphere. Nay, it may be observed, that, in this case, the 
acquired perception in a manner effaces the original one ; 
for the sphere is seen to be of one uniform color, though 
originally there would have appeared a gradual variation 
of color : but that apparent variation we learn to inter- 
pret as the effect of light and shade falling upon a sphere 
of one uniform color. 

A sphere may be painted upon a plane, so exactly as 
to be taken for a real sphere, when the eye is at a proper 
distance, and in the proper point of view. We say in 
this case, that the eye is deceived, that the appearance is 
fallacious ; but there is no fallacy in the original percep- 
tion, but only in that which is acquired by custom. The 
variation of color exhibited to the eye by the painter's 
art is the same which nature exhibits by the different 
degrees of light falling upon the convex surface of a 
sphere. 



184 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

In perception, whether original or acquired, there is 
something which may be called the sign, and something 
which is signified to us, or brought to our knowledge, by 
that sign. 

In original perception, the signs are the various sensa- 
tions which are produced by the impressions made upon 
our organs. The things signified are the objects per- 
ceived in consequence of those sensations, by the original 
constitution of our nature. Thus, when I grasp an ivory 
ball in my hand, I have a certain sensation of touch. 
Although this sensation be in the mind, and have no si- 
militude to any thing material, yet, by the laws of my con- 
stitution, it is immediately followed by the conception and 
belief, that there is in my hand a hard, smooth body, of a 
spherical figure, and about an inch and a half in diameter. 
This belief is grounded neither upon reasoning nor upon 
experience ; it is the immediate effect of my constitution, 
and this I call original perception. 

In acquired perception, the sign may be either a sensa- 
tion, or something originally perceived. The thing sig- 
nified is something which, by experience, has been found 
connected with that sign. Thus, when the ivory ball is 
placed before my eye, I perceive by sight what I before 
perceived by touch, that the ball is smooth, spherical, of 
such a diameter, and at such a distance from the eye ; 
and to this is added the perception of its color. All 
these things I perceive by sight distinctly, and with cer- 
tainty ; yet it is certain, from principles of philosophy, 
that, if I had not been accustomed to compare the infor- 
mations of sight with those of touch, I should not have 
perceived these things by sight. I should have perceived 
a circular object, having its color gradually more faint 
towards the shaded side. But I should not have per- 
ceived it to have three dimensions, to be spherical, to be 
of such a linear magnitude, and at such a distance from 
the eye. That these last mentioned are not original per- 
ceptions of sight, but acquired by experience, is suf- 
ficiently evident from the principles of optics, and from the 
art of painters, in painting objects of three dimensions 
upon a plane which has only two. And it has been put 
beyond all doubt, by observations recorded of several 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 185 

persons, who, having, by cataracts in their eyes, been de- 
prived of sight from their infancy, have been couched and 
made to see, after they came to years of understanding.* 

* The reference on this subject is commonly to Cheselden ; though 
it must be confessed that the mode in which the case of the young 
man couched by that distinguished surgeon is reported does not merit 
all the eulogia that have been lavished on it. It is at once imperfect and 
indistinct. Thus, on the point in question, Cheselden says: — "He 
(the patient) knew not the shape of any thing, nor any one thing from 
another, however different in shape and magnitude; but, upon being 
told what things they were, whose form he before knew from feeling, 
he would carefully observe, that he might know them again ; but, hav- 
ing too many objects to learn at once, he forgot many of them, and (as 
he said) at first he learned to know, and again forgot, a thousand things 
in a day. One particular only, though it may appear trifling, I will 
relate. Having often forgotten which was the cat and which the 
dog, he was ashamed to ask; but catching the cat, which he knew by 
feeling, he was observed to look at her steadfastly, and then, setting 
her down, said, ' So puss! I shall know you another time.' " 

Here, when Cheselden says that his patient, when recently couched, 
" knew not the shape of any thing, nor any one thing from another," 
&c, this cannot mean that he saw no difference between the objects 
of different shapes and sizes ; for, if this interpretation were adopted, 
the rest of the statement becomes nonsense. If he had been altogether 
incapable of apprehending differences, it could not be said that, "being 
told what things were, whose form he before knew from feeling, he 
would carefully observe, that he might know them again " ; for obser- 
vation supposes the power of discrimination, and, in particular, the 
anecdote of the dog and cat would be inconceivable on that hypothesis. 
It is plain that Cheselden only meant to say, that the things which the 
patient could previously distinguish and denominate by touch, he could 
not now identify and refer to their appellations by sight. And this is 
what we might, a "priori, be assured of. A sphere and a cube would 
certainly make different impressions on him ; but it is probable that he 
could not assign to each its name, though, in tins particular case, there 
is good ground for holding that the slightest consideration would enable 
a person, previously acquainted with these figures, and aware that one 
was a cube and the other a square, to connect them with his anterior 
experience, and to discriminate them by name. See Philosophical 
Transactions, 1728, No. 402. — H. 

In another note, Sir W. Hamilton observes: — "Nothing in the 
whole compass of inductive reasoning appears more satisfactory than 
Berkeley's demonstration of the necessity and manner of our learning, 
by a slow process of observation and comparison alone, the connection 
between the perceptions of vision and touch, and, in general, all that 
relates to the distance and real magnitude of external things. But, 
although the same necessity seems in theory equally incumbent on the 
lower animals as on man, yet this theory is provokingly — and that by 
the most manifest experience — found totally at fault with regard to 
them; for we find that all the animals who possess at birth the power 
of regulated motion (and these are those only through whom the 
truth of the theory can be brought to the test of a decisive experiment) 
possess also from birth the whole apprehension of distance, &c, which 

16* 



1S6 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

Those who have had their eyesight from infancy ac- 
quire such perceptions so early, that they cannot recollect 
the time when they had them not, and therefore make no 
distinction between them and their original perceptions ; 
nor can they be easily persuaded that there is any just 
foundation for such a distinction. In all languages, men 
speak with equal assurance of their seeing objects to be 
spherical or cubical, as of their feeling them to be so ; 
nor do they ever dream that these perceptions of sight 
were not as early and original as the perceptions they 
have of the same objects by touch. 

From what has been said, I think it appears that our 
original powers of perceiving objects by our senses re- 
ceive great improvement by use and habit, and, without 
this improvement, would be altogether insufficient for the 
purposes of life. The daily occurrences of life not only 
add to our stock of knowledge, but give additional per- 
ceptive powers to our senses ; thus time gives us the use 
of our eyes and ears, as well as of our hands and legs. 

they are ever known to exhibit. The solution of this difficulty by a 
resort to instinct is unsatisfactory ; for instinct is, in fact, an occult prin- 
ciple, — a kind of natural revelation, — and the hypothesis of instinct, 
therefore, only a confession of our ignorance ; and, at the same time, if 
instinct be allowed in the lower animals, how can we determine 
whether and how far instinct may not, in like manner, operate to the 
same result in man ? — I have discovered, and, by a wide induction, 
established, that the power of regulated motion at birth is, in all ani- 
mals, governed by the development, at that period, of the cerebellum, 
in proportion to the brain proper. Is this law to be extended to the 
faculty of determining distances, &c, by sight?" 

Mr. Bailey, in his Review of Berkeley's Theory of Vision, contests 
strenuously the common doctrine respecting the perception of magni- 
tude, figure, and distance, — maintaining that it is not an acquired, but 
an original, perception of sight. In particular, he examines all the 
accredited reports of persons who have been relieved from early or 
congenital blindness by surgical operations; — not only the case of 
Cheselden's patient, mentioned above, but of a boy seven years old 
. (Master W.), related by Mr. Ware, Philos. Trans., 1801 ; those of John 
Salter and William Stiff, related by Sir E. Home, Philos. Trans., 
1807; and two cases related by Mr. Wardrop, that of James Mitchell, 
so much valued by Mr. Stewart, and of which a separate memoir was 
published, and the still more interesting one of a lady, recorded in the 
Philos. Trans., 1826. He shows that the evidence afforded by these 
reports is by no means so decisive in favor of the Berkeleian theory as 
is generally supposed. In other respects his argument is not so suc- 
cessful. For an answer see the JVestminstcr Review for October, 1S42. 
See also Adam Smith's Essays on Philosophical Subjects, the last essay, 
Of the External Senses; and Young's Lectures on Intellectual Philosophy, 
Lect. XIII.-XV. — Ed. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSES. 187 

This is the greatest and most important improvement 
of our external senses. It is to be found in all men come 
to years of understanding, but is various in different per- 
sons according to their different occupations, and the dif- 
ferent circumstances in which they are placed. Every 
artist acquires an eye, as well as a hand, in his own pro- 
fession : his eye becomes skilled in perceiving, no less 
than his hand in executing, what belongs to his employ- 
ment. 

III. Artificial Means of improving the External Sen- 
ses, and of extending the Information obtained thereby.] 
Besides this improvement of our senses, which nature 
produces without our intention, there are various ways in 
which they may be improved, or their defects remedied, 
by art. As, first, by a due care of the organs of sense, 
that they be in a sound and natural slate. This belongs 
to the department of the medical faculty. 

Secondly, by accurate attention to the objects of sense. 
The effects of such attention in improving our senses 
appear in every art. The artist, by giving more attention 
to certain objects than others do, by that means perceives 
many things in those objects which others do not. Those 
who happen to be deprived of one sense frequently sup- 
ply that defect, in a great degree, by giving more accurate 
attention to the objects of the senses they have. The 
blind have often been known to acquire uncommon acute- 
ness in distinguishing things by feeling and hearing ; and 
the deaf are uncommonly quick in reading men's thoughts 
in their countenance. 

A third way in which our senses admit of improve- 
ment is by additional organs or instruments contrived 
by art. By the invention of optical glasses, and the 
gradual improvement of them, the natural power of vision 
is wonderfully improved, and a vast addition made to the 
stock of knowledge which we acquire by the eye. By 
speaking-trumpets and ear-trumpets, some improvement 
has been made in the sense of hearing. Whether by 
similar inventions the other senses may be improved, 
seems uncertain. 

A fourth method by which the information got by our 



18S SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

senses may be improved is by discovering the connection 
tohich nature has established between the sensible qualities 
of objects and their more latent qualities. 

By the sensible qualities of bodies, I understand those 
that are perceived immediately by the senses, such as 
their color, figure, feeling, sound, taste, smell. The 
various modifications and various combinations of these 
are innumerable ; so that there are hardly two individual 
bodies in nature that may not be distinguished by their 
sensible qualities. The latent qualities are such as are 
not immediately discovered by our senses, but discov- 
ered, sometimes by accident, sometimes by experiment 
or observation. The most important part of our knowl- 
edge of bodies is the knowledge of the latent qualities 
of the several species, by which they are adapted to cer- 
tain purposes, either for food, or medicine, or agriculture, 
or for the materials or utensils of some art or manufac- 
ture. I am taught that certain species of bodies have 
certain latent qualities ; but how shall I know that this 
individual is of such a species ? This must be known 
by the sensible qualities which characterize the species. 
I must know that this is bread, and that wine, before I 
eat the one or drink the other. I must know that this is 
rhubarb, and that opium, before I use the one or the other 
for medicine. 

It is one branch of human knowledge to know the 
names of the various species of natural and artificial 
bodies, and to know the sensible qualities by which they 
are ascertained to be of such a species, and by which 
they are distinguished from one another. It is another 
branch of knowledge to know the latent qualities of the 
several species, and the uses to which they are subservi- 
ent. The man who possesses both these branches is 
informed by his senses of innumerable things of real 
moment, which are hid from those who possess only one, 
or neither. This is an improvement in the information 
got by our senses, which must keep pace with the im- 
provements made in natural history, in natural philosophy, 
and in the arts. 

It would be an improvement still higher, if we were 
able to discover any connection between the sensible quali- 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 189 

lies of bodies and their latent qualities, without knowing 
the species, or what may have been discovered with regard 
to it. 

Some philosophers of the first rate have made attempts 
towards this noble improvement, not without promising 
hopes of success. Thus the celebrated Linnaeus has 
attempted to point out certain sensible qualities by which 
a plant may very probably be concluded to be poisonous, 
without knowing its name or species. He has given sev- 
eral other instances, wherein certain medical and econom- 
ical virtues of plants are indicated by their external ap- 
pearances. Sir Isaac Newton has attempted to show, 
that from the colors of bodies we may form a probable 
conjecture of the size of their constituent parts, by which 
the rays of light are reflected. 

No man can pretend to set limits to the discoveries that 
may be made by human genius and industry of such con- 
nections between the latent and the sensible qualities of 
bodies. A wide field here opens to our view, whose 
boundaries no man can ascertain, of improvements that 
may hereafter be made in the information conveyed to us 
by our senses. 



CHAPTER XII. 

OF THE ALLEOED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 

I. JVb Foundation for the common Complaint on this 
Subject.] Complaints of the fallacy of the senses have 
been very common in ancient and in modern times, 
especially among the philosophers. If we should take for 
granted all they have said on this subject, the natural con- 
clusion from it might seem to be, that the senses are 
given to us by some malignant demon on purpose to 
delude us, rather than that they are formed by the wise 
and beneficent Author of nature, to give us true informa- 
tion of things necessary to our preservation and happi- 
ness. 



190 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

This complaint they have supported by many common- 
place instances ; — such as the crooked appearance of an 
oar in water ; objects being magnified, and their distance 
mistaken, in a fog ; the sun and moon appearing about a 
foot or two in diameter, while they are really thousands 
of miles ; a square tower being taken at a distance to be 
round. These, and similar appearances, many among 
the ancient philosophers thought to be sufficiently ac- 
counted for by the fallacy of the senses ; and thus the 
fallacy of the senses was used as a decent cover to con- 
ceal their ignorance of the real causes of such phenomena, 
and served the same purpose as their occult qualities and 
substantial forms. 

Descartes and his followers joined in the same com* 
plaint. Antony le Grand, a philosopher of that sect, in 
the first chapter of his Logic, expresses the sentiments of 
the sect as follows : — " Since all our senses are fallacious, 
and we are frequently deceived by them, common reason 
advises, that we should not put too much trust in them, 
nay, that we should suspect falsehood in every thing they 
represent ; for it is imprudence and temerity to trust to 
those who have once deceived us ; and if they err at any 
time, they may be believed always to err. They are 
given by nature for this purpose only, to warn us of what 
is useful and what is hurtful to us. The order of nature, 
is perverted when we put them to any other use, and 
apply them for the knowledge of truth." 

When we consider that the active part of mankind, in 
all ages from the beginning of the world, have rested their 
most important concerns upon the testimony of sense, it 
will be very difficult to reconcile their conduct with the 
speculative opinion so generally entertained of the falla- 
ciousness of the senses. Also it seems to be a very un- 
favorable account of the workmanship of the Supreme 
Being, to think that he has given us one faculty to deceive 
us, — to wit, our senses; and another faculty — to wit, 
our reason — to detect the fallacy. 

It deserves, therefore, to be considered, whether the 
alleged fallaciousness of our senses be not a common 
error, which men have been led into from a desire to 
conceal their ignorance, or to apologize for their mis- 
takes. 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 191 

There are two powers which we owe to our external 
senses, sensation, and the perception of external objects. 

It is impossible that there can be any fallacy in sensa- 
tion ; for we are conscious of all our sensations, and 
they can neither be any other in their nature, nor greater 
or less in their degree, than we feel them. It is impos- 
sible that a man should be in pain, when he does not feel 
pain ; and when he feels pain, it is impossible that his 
pain should not be real, and in its degree what it is felt to 
be ; and the same thing may be said of every sensation 
whatsoever. An agreeable or an uneasy sensation may 
be forgot when it is past, but when it is present, it can be 
nothing but what we feel. 

If, therefore, there be any fallacy in our senses, it must 
be in the perception of external objects, which we shall 
next consider. 

And here I grant that we can conceive powers of per- 
ceiving external objects more perfect than ours, which, 
possibly, beings of a higher order may enjoy. We can 
perceive external objects only by means of bodily organs ; 
and these are liable to various disorders, which sometimes 
affect our powers of perception. So the imagination, 
the memory, the judging and reasoning powers, are all 
liable to be hurt, or even destroyed, by disorders of the 
body, as well as our powers of perception ; but we do 
not on this account call them fallacious. 

Our senses, our memory, and our reason are all lim- 
ited and imperfect : this is the lot of humanity : but they 
are such as the Author of our being saw to be best fitted 
for us in our present state. Superior natures may have 
intellectual powers which we have not, or such as we 
have in a more perfect degree, and less liable to acci- 
dental disorders : but we have no reason to think that 
God has given fallacious powers to any of his creatures : 
this would be to think dishonorably of our Maker, and 
would lay a foundation for universal skepticism. 

II. Alleged Fallacies of the Senses reducible to Four 
Classes.^ The appearances commonly imputed to the 
fallacy of the senses are many, and of different kinds ; 
but I think they may be reduced to the four following 
classes. 



192 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

First, Many things called deceptions of the senses are 
only conclusions rashly drawn from the testimony of the 
senses. In these cases the testimony of the senses is 
true, but we rashly draw a conclusion from it which does 
not necessarily follow. We are disposed to impute our 
errors rather to false information than to inconclusive rea- 
soning, and to blame our senses for the wrong conclusions 
we draw from their testimony. 

Thus, when a man has taken a counterfeit guinea for a 
true one, he says his senses deceived him ; but he lays 
the blame where it ought not to be laid : for we may ask 
him, Did your senses give a false testimony of the color, 
or of the figure, or of the impression ? No. But this 
is all that they testified, and this they testified truly : from 
these premises you concluded that it was a true guinea, 
but this conclusion does not follow ; you erred, therefore, 
not by relying upon the testimony of sense, but by judg- 
ing rashly from its testimony. Not only are your senses 
innocent of this error, but it is only by their information 
that it can be discovered. If you consult them properly, 
they will inform you that what you took for a guinea is 
base metal, or is deficient in weight, and this .can only be 
known by the testimony of sense. 

I remember to have met with a man who thought the 
argument used by Protestants against the Popish doctrine 
of transubstantiation, from the testimony of our senses, 
inconclusive ; because, said he, instances may be given 
where several of our senses may deceive us. How do 
we know, then, that there may not be cases wherein they 
all deceive us, and no sense is left to detect the fallacy ? 
I begged of him to show an instance wherein several of 
our senses deceive us. " I take," said he, " a piece of 
soft turf, I cut it into the shape of an apple ; with the 
essence of apples I give it the smell of an apple ; and 
with paint, I can give it the skin and color of an apple. 
Here, then, is a body, which, if you judge by your eye, 
by your touch, or by your smell, is an apple." 

To this I would answer, that no one of our senses de- 
ceives us in this case. My sight and touch testify that it 
has the shape and color of an apple : this is true. The 
sense of smelling testifies that it has the smell of an apple: 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 193 

this is likewise true, and is no deception. Where, then, 
lies the deception ? It is evident it lies in this, that be- 
cause this body has some qualities belonging to an apple, 
I conclude that it is an apple. This is a fallacy, not of 
the senses, but of inconclusive reasoning. 

Many false judgments that are accounted deceptions of 
sense arise from our mistaking relative motion for real 
or absolute motion. These can be no deceptions of sense, 
because by our senses we perceive only the relative mo- 
tions of bodies ; and it is by reasoning that we infer the 
real from the relative which we perceive. A little reflec- 
tion may satisfy us of this. 

It was before observed, that we perceive extension to 
be one sensible quality of bodies, and thence are neces- 
sarily led to conceive space, though space be of itself no 
object of sense. When a body is removed out of its 
place, the space which it filled remains empty till it is 
filled by some other body, and would remain if it should 
never be filled. Before any body existed, the space 
which bodies now occupy was empty space, capable of 
receiving bodies ; for no body can exist where there is 
no space to contain it. There is space, therefore, 
wherever bodies exist, or can exist. Hence it is evident 
that space can have no limits. It is no less evident that 
it is immovable. Bodies placed in it are movable, but 
the place where they were cannot be moved ; and we 
can as easily conceive a thing to be moved from itself, as 
one part of space brought nearer to or removed farther 
from another. This space, therefore, which is unlimited 
and immovable, is called by philosophers absolute space. 
Absolute or real motion is a change of place in absolute 
space. Our senses do not testify the absolute motion or 
absolute rest of any body. When one body removes 
from another, this may be discerned by the senses ; but 
whether any body keeps the same part of absolute space, 
we do not perceive by our senses. When one body seems 
to remove from another, we can infer with certainty that 
there is absolute motion, but whether in the one or the 
other, or partly in both, is not discerned by sense. 

Of all the prejudices which philosophy contradicts, I 
believe there is none so general as that the earth keeps its 
17 



194 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

place unmoved. This opinion seems to be universal, till 
it is corrected by instruction, or by philosophical specu- 
lation. Those who have any tincture of education are 
not now in danger of being held by it, but they find at 
first a reluctance to believe that there are antipodes ; that 
the earth is spherical, and turns round its axis every day, 
and round the sun every year : they can recollect the 
time when reason struggled with prejudice upon these 
points, and prevailed at length, but not without some 
effort. 

The cause of a prejudice so very general is not unwor- 
thy of investigation. But that is not our present business. 
It is sufficient to observe, that it cannot justly be called a 
fallacy of sense ; because our senses testify only the change 
of situation of one body in relation to other bodies, and not 
its change of situation in absolute space. It is only the 
relative motion of bodies that we perceive, and that we 
perceive truly. It is the province of reason and philoso- 
phy, from the relative motions which we perceive, to col- 
lect the real and absolute motions which produce them. 
All motion must be estimated from some point or place 
which is supposed to be at rest. We perceive not the 
points of absolute space, from which real and absolute 
motion must be reckoned ; and there are obvious reasons 
that lead mankind, in the state of ignorance, to make the 
earth the fixed place from which they may estimate the 
various motions they perceive. The custom of doing 
this from infancy, and of using constantly a language 
which supposes the earth to be at rest, may perhaps be 
the cause of the general prejudice in favor of this opinion. 

Thus it appears, that, if we distinguish accurately be- 
tween what our senses really and naturally testify, and 
the conclusions which we draw from their testimony by 
reasoning, we shall find many of the errors called falla- 
cies of the senses to be no fallacies of the senses, but 
rash judgments, which are not to be imputed to our 
senses. 

Secondly, Another class of errors imputed to the fallacy 
of the senses consists of those to which ive are liable in our 
acquired perceptions. Acquired perception is not prop- 
erly the testimony of those senses which God has given 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 195 

us, but a conclusion drawn from what the senses testify. 
In our past experience, we have found certain things con- 
joined with what our senses testify. We are led by our 
constitution to expect this conjunction in time to come ; 
and when we have often found it in our experience to 
happen, we acquire a firm belief that the things which 
we have found thus conjoined are connected in nature, 
and that one is a sign of the other. The appearance of 
the sign immediately produces the belief of its usual 
attendant, and we think we perceive the one as well as 
the other. 

That such conclusions are formed even in infancy, no 
man can doubt ; nor is it less certain that they are con- 
founded with the natural and immediate perceptions of 
sense, and in all languages are called by the same name. 
We are, therefore, authorized by language to call them 
perceptions, and must often do so, or speak unintelligibly. 
But philosophy teaches us in this, as in many other in- 
stances, to distinguish things which the vulgar confound. 
I have therefore given the name of acquired perceptions 
to such conclusions, to distinguish them from what is 
naturally, originally, and immediately testified by our 
senses. Whether this acquired perception is to be re- 
solved into some process of reasoning, of which we have 
lost the remembrance, as some philosophers think, or 
whether it results immediately from our constitution, as I 
rather believe, does not concern the present subject. If 
the first of these opinions be true, the errors of acquired 
perception' will fall under the first class before mentioned. 
If not, it makes a distinct class by itself. But whether 
the one or the other be true, it must be observed, that 
the errors of acquired perception are not properly fal- 
lacies of our senses. 

Thus, when a globe is set before me, I perceive by my 
eyes that it has three dimensions and a spherical figure. 
To say that this is not perception, would be to reject the 
authority of custom in the use of words, which no wise 
man will do : but that it is not the testimony of my sense 
of seeing, every philosopher knows. I see only a cir- 
cular form, having the light and color distributed in a 
certain way over it. But being accustomed to observe 



196 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

this distribution of light and color only in a spherical body, 
I immediately, from what I see, believe the object to be 
spherical, and say that I see or perceive it to be spherical. 
When a painter, by an exact imitation of that distribution 
of light and color which I have been accustomed to see 
only in a real sphere, deceives me, so as to make me take 
that to .be a real sphere which is only a painted one, the 
testimony of my eye is true, — the color and visible figure 
of the object are truly what I see them to be: the error lies 
in the conclusion drawn from what I see, — to wit, that 
the object has three dimensions and a spherical figure. 
The conclusion is false in this case ; but whatever be the 
origin of this conclusion, it is not properly the testimony 
of sense. 

To this class we must refer the judgments we are apt 
to form of the distance and magnitude of the heavenly 
bodies, and of terrestrial objects seen on high. The mis- 
takes we make of the magnitude and distance of objects 
seen through optical glasses, or through an atmosphere 
uncommonly clear or uncommonly foggy, belong likewise 
to this class. 

The errors we are led into in acquired perception are 
very rarely hurtful to us in the conduct of life ; they are 
gradually corrected by a more enlarged experience, and a 
more perfect knowledge of the laws of nature : and the 
general laws of our constitution, by which we are some- 
times led into them, are of the greatest utility. 

We come into the world ignorant of every thing, and 
by our ignorance exposed to many dangers and to many 
mistakes. Were we sensible of our condition in that 
period, and capable of reflecting upon it, we should be 
like a man in the dark, surrounded with dangers, where 
every step he takes may be into a pit. Reason would 
direct him to sit down, and wait till he could see about 
him. Nature has followed another plan. The child, un- 
apprehensive of danger, is led by instinct to exert all his 
active powers, to try every thing without the cautious ad- 
monitions of reason, and to believe every thing that is told 
him. Sometimes be sutlers by his rashness what reason 
would have prevented ; but his suffering proves a salutary 
discipline, and makes him for the future avoid the cause 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 197 

of it. Sometimes he is imposed upon by his credulity ; 
but it is of infinite benefit to him upon the whole. His 
activity and credulity are more useful qualities, and better 
instructors than reason would be ; they teach him more in 
a day than reason would do in a year ; they furnish a 
stock of materials for reason to work upon ; they make 
him easy and happy in a period of his existence, when 
reason could only serve to suggest a thousand tormenting 
anxieties and fears : and he acts agreeably to the consti- 
tution and intention of nature, even when he does and be- 
lieves what reason would not justify. So that the wisdom 
and goodness of the Author of nature are no less conspicu- 
ous in withholding the exercise of our reason in this 
period, than in bestowing it when we are ripe for it. 

A third class of errors, ascribed to the fallacy of the 
senses, proceeds from ignorance of the laws of nature. 

The laws of nature (I mean not moral but physical 
laws) are learned either from our own experience, or the 
experience of others, who have had occasion to observe 
the course of nature. Ignorance of those laws, or inat- 
tention to them, is apt to occasion false judgments with 
regard to the objects of sense, especially those of hearing 
and of sight ; which false judgments are often, without 
good reason, called fallacies of sense. 

Sounds affect the ear differently, according as the 
sounding body is before or behind us, on the right hand 
or on the left, near or at a great distance. We learn, by 
the manner in which the sound affects the ear, on what 
hand we are to look for the sounding body ; and in most 
cases we judge right. But we are sometimes deceived 
by echoes, or by whispering-galleries, or speaking-trum- 
pets, which return the sound, or alter its direction, or con- 
vey it to a distance without diminution. The deception 
is still greater, because more uncommon, which is said to 
be produced by ventriloquists, — that is, persons who 
have acquired the art of modifying their voice, so that it 
shall affect the ear of the hearers as if it came from 
another person, or from the clouds, or from under the 
earth. Some are also said to have the art of imitating 
the voice of another so exactly, that in the dark they 
might be taken for the person whose voice they imitate. 
17* 



198 SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

It is, indeed, a wonderful instance of the accuracy as 
well as of the truth of our senses in things that are of real 
use in life, that we are able to distinguish all our acquaint- 
ance by their countenance, by their voice, and by their 
handwriting, when at the same time we are often unable 
to say by what minute difference the distinction is made ; 
and that we are so very rarely deceived in matters of this 
kind, when we give proper attention to the informations 
of sense. However, if any case should happen in which 
sounds produced by different causes are not distinguish- 
able by the ear, this may prove that our senses are imper- 
fect, but not that they are fallacious. The ear may not 
be able to draw the just conclusion, but it is only our 
ignorance of the laws of sound that leads us to a wrong 
conclusion. 

Deceptions of sight, arising from ignorance of the laws 
of nature, are more numerous and more remarkable than 
those of hearing. 

The rays of light, which are the means of seeing, pass 
in right lines from the object to the eye, when they meet 
with no obstruction ; and we are by nature led to con- 
ceive the visible object to be in the direction of the rays 
that come to the eye. But the rays may be reflected, 
refracted, or inflected in their passage from the object to 
the eye, according to certain fixed laws of nature, by 
which means their direction may be changed, and conse- 
quently the apparent place, figure, or magnitude of the 
object. Thus a child seeing himself in a mirror thinks 
he sees another child behind the mirror, that imitates all 
his motions. But even a child soon gets the better of 
this deception, and knows that he sees himself only. 

All the deceptions made by telescopes, microscopes, 
camera obscuras, or magic lanterns, are of the same kind, 
though not so familiar to the vulgar. The ignorant may 
be deceived by them ; but to those who are acquainted 
with the principles of optics, they give just and true in- 
formation, and the laws of nature by which they are pro- 
duced are of infinite benefit to mankind. 

There remains another class of errors, commonly called 
deceptions of sense, and the only one, as I apprehend, to 
which that name can be given with propriety : I mean 



ALLEGED FALLACY OF THE SENSES. 199 

such as proceed from some disorder or preternatural state, 
either of the external organ, or of the nerves and brain, 
which are internal organs of perception. 

In a delirium or in madness, perception, memory, 
imagination, and our reasoning powers, are strangely dis- 
ordered and confounded. There are likewise disorders 
which affect some of our senses, while others are sound. 
Thus, a man may feel pain in his toes after the leg is cut 
off. He may feel a little ball double, by crossing his 
fingers. He may see an object double, by not directing 
both eyes properly to it. By pressing the ball of his eye, 
he may see colors that are not real. By the jaundice in 
his eyes, he may mistake colors. These are more prop- 
erly deceptions of sense than any of the classes before 
mentioned. 

We must acknowledge it to be the lot of human nature, 
that all the human faculties are liable, by accidental causes, 
to be hurt and unfitted for their natural functions, either 
wholly or in part : but as this imperfection is common to 
them all, it gives no just ground for accounting any one 
of them fallacious more than another. 

I add only one observation to what has been said upon 
this subject. It is, that there seems to be a contradiction 
between what philosophers teach concerning ideas, and 
their doctrine of the fallaciousness of the senses. We are 
taught that the office of the senses is only to give us the 
ideas of external objects. If this be so, there can be no 
fallacy in the senses. Ideas can neither be true nor 
false. If the senses testify nothing, they cannot give 
false testimony. If they are not judging faculties, no 
judgment can be imputed to them, whether false or true. 
There is, therefore, a contradiction between the common 
doctrine concerning ideas and that of the fallaciousness of 
the senses. Both may be false, as I believe they are, but 
both cannot be true. 



ESSAY III. 

OF MEMORY. 



CHAPTER I.~ 

OP THE NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF THIS FACULTY. 

I. Memory distinguished from Sensation and Percep- 
tion. 1 ^ In the gradual progress of man from infancy to 
maturity, there is a certain order in which his faculties are 
unfolded, and this seems to be the best order we can fol- 
low in treating of them. The external senses appear 
first ; memory soon follows, — ■ which we are now to con- 
sider. 

It is by memory that we have an immediate knowledge 
of things past.* The senses give us information of things 
only as they exist in the present moment ; and this infor- 
mation, if it were not preserved by memory, would vanish 
instantly, and leave us as ignorant as if it had never been. 

Every man who remembers must remember something, 
and that which he remembers is called the object of his 
remembrance. In this, memory agrees with perception, 
but differs from sensation, which has no object but the 
feeling itself. Every man can distinguish the thing re- 
membered from the remembrance of it. We may re- 
member any thing which we have seen, or heard, or 
known, or done, or suffered ; but the remembrance of it 
is a particular act of the mind which now exists, and of 
which we are conscious. To confound these two is an 

* An immediate knowledge of a past thing is a contradiction. For 
we can only know a thing immediately, if we know it in itself, or as 
existing ; but what is past cannot be known in itself, for it is non-exist- 
ent. In this respect memory differs from perception. — H. 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 201 

absurdity, which a thinking man could not be led into, 
but by some false hypothesis which hinders him from re- 
flecting upon the thing which he would explain by it. 

In memory we do not find such a train of operations 
connected by our constitution as in perception. When 
we perceive an object by our senses, there is, first, some 
impression made by the object upon the organ of sense, 
either immediately or by means of some medium. By 
this an impression is made upon the nerves and brain, in 
consequence of which we feel some sensation, and that 
sensation is attended by that conception and belief of the 
external object which we call perception. These opera- 
tions are so connected in our constitution, that it is diffi- 
cult to disjoin them in our conceptions, and to attend to 
each without confounding it with the others. But in the 
operations of memory we are free from this embarrass- 
ment ; they are easily distinguished from all other acts of 
the mind, and the names which denote them are free from 
all ambiguity. Again, the object of memory, or thing 
remembered, must be something that is past ; as the ob- 
ject of perception and of consciousness must be some- 
thing which is present. What now is, cannot be an ob- 
ject of memory ; neither can that which is past and gone 
be an object of perception or of consciousness. 

Memory is always accompanied with the belief of that 
which we remember, as perception is accompanied with 
the belief of that which we perceive, and consciousness 
with the belief of that whereof we are conscious. Per- 
haps in infancy, or in a disorder of mind, things remem- 
bered may be confounded with those which are merely 
imagined ; but in mature years, and in a sound state of 
mind, every man feels that he must believe what he dis- 
tinctly remembers, though he can give no other reason of 
his belief, but that he remembers the thing distinctly ; 
whereas, when he merely imagines a thing ever so dis- 
tinctly, he has no belief of it upon that account. 

This belief, which we have from distinct memory, we 
account real knowledge, no less certain than if it was 
grounded on demonstration ; no man in his wits calls it in 
question, or will hear any argument against it. The tes- 
timony of witnesses in causes of life and death depends 



202 MEMORY. 

upon it, and all the knowledge of mankind of past events 
is built on this foundation. There are cases in which a 
man's memory is less distinct and determinate, and where 
he is ready to allow that it may have failed him ; but this 
does not in the least weaken its credit, when it is perfect- 
ly distinct. 

Things remembered must be things formerly perceived 
or known. I remember the transit of Venus over the 
sun in the year 1769. I must therefore have perceived 
it at the time it happened, otherwise I could not now re- 
member it. Our first acquaintance with any object of 
thought cannot be by remembrance. Memory can only 
produce a continuance or renewal of a former acquaint- 
ance with the thing remembered. The remembrance of 
a past event is necessarily accompanied with the convic- 
tion of our own existence at the time the event happened. 
I cannot remember a thing that happened a year ago, 
without a conviction as strong as memory can give, that 
I, the same identical person who now remember that 
event, did then exist.* 



* Mr. James Mill thus analyzes a fact of memory : — "I remember 
to have seen and heard George the Third, when making a speech at 
the opening of his Parliament. In this remembrance there is, first of 
all, the mere idea, or simple apprehension — the conception, as it is 
sometimes called — of the objects. There is combined with this, to 
make it memory, my idea of my having seen and heard those objects. 
And this combination is so close, that it is not in my power to separate 
them. I cannot have the idea of George the Third, — his person and 
attitude, the paper he held in his hand, the sound of his voice while 
reading it, the throne, the apartment, the audience, — without having 
the other idea along with it, that of my having been a witness of the 
scene. 

" Now in this last-mentioned part of the compound, it is easy to per- 
ceive two important elements : the idea of my present self, the remem- 
bering self; and the idea of my past self, the remembered or witnessing 
self. These two ideas stand at the two ends of a portion of my being ; 
that is, of a series of my states of consciousness. That series consists 
of the successive states of my consciousness intervening between the 
moment of perception, or the past moment, and the moment of memo- 
ry, or the present moment. What happens at the moment of memory? 
The mind runs back from that moment to the moment of perception. 
That is to say, it runs over the intervening states of consciousness, call- 
ed up by association. But to run over a number of states of conscious- 
ness, called up by association, is but another mode of saying that we 
associate them; and in this case we associate them so rapidly and close- 
ly, that they run, as it were, into a single point of consciousness, to 
which the name of memory is assigned." Analysis of the Human Mind, 
Chap. X. — Ed. 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 203 

II. Distinction betiveen JWemory and Reminiscence or 
Recollection.] Here it is proper to take notice of a dis- 
tinction which Aristotle makes between memory and rem- 
iniscence, because the distinction has a real foundation in 
nature, though in our language I think we do not distin- 
guish them by different names. 

Memory is a kind of habit which is not always in exer- 
cise with regard to things we remember, but is ready to 
suggest them when there is occasion. The most perfect 
degree of this habit is, when the thing presents itself to 
our remembrance spontaneously, and without labor, as 
often as there is occasion. A second degree is, when the 
thing is forgot for a longer or shorter time, even when 
there is occasion to remember it, yet at last some incident 
brings it to mind without any search. A third degree is, 
when we cast about and search for xchat we would remem- 
ber, and so at last find it out. It is this last, I think, 
which Aristotle calls reminiscence, as distinguished from 
memory. 

Reminiscence, therefore, includes a will to recollect 
something past, and a search for it. But here a difficulty 
occurs. It may be said, that what we will to remember 
we must conceive, as there can be no will without a con- 
ception of the thing willed. A will to remember a thing, 
therefore, seems to imply that we remember it already, 
and have no occasion to search for it. But this difficulty 
is easily removed. When we will to remember a thing, 
we must remember something relating to it, which gives 
us a relative conception of it ; but we may, at the same 
time, have no conception what the thing is, but only 
what relation it bears to something else. Thus, I re- 
member that a friend charged me with a commission to 
be executed at such a place ; but I have forgot what the 
commission was. By applying my thought to what I re- 
member concerning it, that it was given by such a person, 
upon such an occasion, in consequence of such a conver- 
sation, I am led, in a train of thought, to the very thing 
I had forgot, and recollect distinctly what the commission 
was. 

Aristotle says, that brutes have not reminiscence, and 
this I think is probable ; but, says he, they have memory. 



204 MEMORY. 

It cannot, indeed, be doubted but they have something 
very like to it, and in some instances in a very great de- 
gree. A dog knows his master after long absence. A 
horse will trace back a road he has once gone, as accu- 
rately as a man ; and this is the more strange, that the 
train of thought which he had in going must be reversed 
in his return. It is very like to some prodigious memo- 
ries we read of, where a person, upon hearing a hundred 
names or unconnected words pronounced, can begin at 
the last, and go backwards to the first, without losing or 
misplacing one. Brutes certainly may learn much from 
experience, which seems to imply memory. 

Yet I see no reason to think that brutes measure time 
as men do, by days, months, or years, or that they have 
any distinct knowledge of the interval between things 
which they remember, or of their distance from the pres- 
ent moment. If we could not record transactions ac- 
cording to their dates, human memory would be some- 
thing very different from what it is, and perhaps resemble 
more the memory of brutes. 

III. Memory an Original and Ultimate Ground of 
Belief.'] Memory is an original faculty, given us by the 
Author of our being, of which we can give no account, 
but that we are so made.* 

The knowledge which I have of things past by my 
memory seems to me as unaccountable as an immediate 
knowledge would be of things to come,f and I can give 
no reason why I should have the one and not the other, 
but that such is the will of my Maker. I find in my 

* From this most modern psychologists dissent. The Hartleian 
school resolve memory into the 'association of ideas. Dr. Brown, Phi- 
losophy of the Human, Mind, Lect. XLI., into " a particular suggestion 
combined with a feeling of the relation of priority." Even Mr. Stew- 
art, Elements, Part I. Chap. VII., resolves "the memory of events" 
into a conception and a judgment. — Ed. 

t An immediate knowledge of things to come is equally a contradic- 
tion with an immediate knowledge of things past. See note on p. 200. 
But if, as Reid himself allows, memory depends upon certain enduring 
affections of the brain, determined by cognition, it seems a strange as- 
sertion, on this as on other accounts, that the possibility of a knowledge 
of the future is not more inconceivable than of a knowledge of the past. 
Maupertuis, however, has advanced a similar doctrine ; and some, also, 
of the advocates of animal magnetism. — H. 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 205 

mind a distinct conception and a firm belief of a series of 
past events ; but how this is produced I know not. I 
call it memory, but this is only giving a name to it ; it is 
not an account of its cause. J believe most firmly what 
I distinctly remember ; but I can give no reason of this 
belief. It is the inspiration of the Almighty that gives 
me this understanding. 

When I believe the truth of a mathematical axiom, or 
of a mathematical proposition, I see that it must be so. 
Every man who has the same conception of it, sees the 
same. There is a necessary and an evident connection 
between the subject and the predicate of the proposition ; 
and I have all the evidence to support my belief which I 
can possibly conceive. 

When I believe that I washed my hands and face this 
morning, there appears no necessity in the truth of this 
proposition. It might be, or it might not be. A man 
may distinctly conceive it without believing it at all. 
How, then, do I come to believe it ? I remember it 
distinctly. This is all I can say. This remembrance is 
an act of my mind. Is it impossible that this act should 
be, if the event had not happened ? I confess I do not 
see any necessary connection between the one and the 
other. If any man can show such a necessary connec- 
tion, then I think that belief which we have of what we 
remember will be fairly accounted for ; but if this cannot 
be done, that belief is unaccountable, and we can say no 
more but that it is the result of our constitution. 

Perhaps it may be said, that the experience we have 
had of the fidelity of memory is a good reason for relying 
upon its testimony. I deny not that this may be a reason 
to those who have had this experience, and who reflect 
upon it. But I believe there are few who ever thought 
of this reason, or who found any need of it. It must be 
some very rare occasion that leads a man to have recourse 
to it ; and in those who have done so, the testimony of 
memory was believed before the experience of its fidelity, 
and that belief could not be caused by the experience 
which came after it. 

We know some abstract truths, by comparing the terms 
of the proposition which expresses them, and perceiving 
18 



206 MEMORY. 

some necessary relation or agreement between them. It 
is thus I know that two and three make five ; that the 
diameters of a circle are all equal. Mr. Locke, having 
discovered this source of knowledge, too rashly conclud- 
ed that all human knowledge might be derived from it ; 
and in this he has been followed very generally, — by 
Mr. Hume in particular. But I apprehend that our 
knowledge of the existence of things contingent can never 
be traced to this source. I know that such a thing ex- 
ists, or did exist. This knowledge cannot be derived 
from the perception of a necessary agreement between 
existence and the thing that exists, because there is no 
such necessary agreement ; and therefore no such agree- 
ment can be perceived either immediately, or by a chain 
of reasoning. The thing does not exist necessarily, but 
by the will and power of him that made it ; and there is 
no contradiction follows from supposing it not to exist. 
Whence I think it follows, that our knowledge of the 
existence of our own thoughts, of the existence of all the 
material objects about us, and of all past contingencies, 
must be derived, not from a perception of necessary re- 
lations or agreements, but from some other source. 

Our Maker has provided other means for giving us the 
knowledge of these things, — means which perfectly an- 
swer their end, and produce the effect intended by them. 
But in what manner they do this is, I fear, beyond our 
skill to explain. We know our own thoughts, and the 
operations of our minds, by a power which we call con- 
sciousness : but this is only giving a name to this part of 
our frame. It does not explain its fabric, nor how it 
produces in us an irresistible conviction of its informa- 
tions. We perceive material objects and their sensible 
qualities by our senses ; but how they give us this infor- 
mation, and how they produce our belief in it, we know 
not. We know many past events by memory ; but how 
it gives this information, I believe, is inexplicable. 

IV. Physiological Theories to account for Memory.] 
The theory of the Peripatetics is expressed by Alexander 
Aphrodisiensis, one of the earliest Greek commentators 
on Aristotle, in these words, as they are translated by 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 207 

Mr. Harris, in his Hermes : * — "Now what phansy or 
imagination is, we may explain as follows: — We may 
conceive to be formed Within us, from the operations of 
our senses about sensible objects, some impression, as it 
were, or picture, in our original sensorium, being a relict of 
that motion caused within us by the external object; a rel- 
ict, which, when the external object is no longer present, 
remains, and is still preserved, being as it were its image, 
and which, by being thus preserved, becomes the cause 
of our having memory: now such a sort of relict, and, as 
it were, impression, they call phansy or imagination." 

Another passage from Alcinous, Of the Doctrines of 
Plato, Chap. TV., shows the agreement of the ancient 
Platonists and Peripatetics in this theory : — " When the 
form or type of things is imprinted on the mind by the or- 
gans of the senses, and so imprinted as not to be deleted 
by time, but preserved firm and lasting, its preservation 
is called memory," 

Upon this principle Aristotle imputes the shortness of 
memory in children to this cause, that their brain is too 
moist and soft to retain impressions made upon it; and 
the defect of memory in old men he imputes, on the con- 
trary, to the hardness and rigidity of the brain, which hin- 
ders its receiving any durable impression. f 

*Book III. Chap. IV. 

t In this whole statement Reid is wrong. In the frst place, Aristotle 
did not impute the defect of memory in children and old persons to any 
constitution of ihe brain ; for, in his doctrine, the heart, and not the 
brain, is the primary sensorium in which the impression is made. In 
the second place, the term impression (tvttos) is used by Aristotle in an 
analogical, not in a literal, signification. See Note K. — H. 

For a full account of Aristotle's doctrine respecting memory and rem- 
iniscence, see Barth. St. Hilaire's translation of the Parva Naturalia, 
making the second volume of his Psi/cholooie d ' Jiristoie. In the preface, 
the translator, after reviewing what has been written in modern times 
on the subject of memory, comes to this conclusion : that Aristotle was 
the first who studied the faculty scientifically, and that his treatise, after 
the lapse of twenty-two centuries, is still the most complete and the 
most exact. 

At the same time, we are not to suppose that physiological theories to 
explain and account for memory have never been entertained to which 
the strictures in the text apply. As, for example, to "the decaying 
sense " of Hobbes, Leviathan, Part I. Chap. II. Malebranche pushes 
his invention still farther. 

His words are : — " For the explanation of memory it is necessary to 
remember what has been repeated so many times, — that all our differ- 



208 MEMORY. . 

This ancient theory of the cause of memory is defect- 
ive in two respects: — first, if the cause assigned did really 
exist, it by no means accounts for the phenomenon; and, 
secondly, there is no evidence, nor even probability, that 
that cause exists. 

It is probable, that in perception some impression is 
made upon the brain, as well as upon the organ and nerves, 
because all the nerves terminate in the brain, and because 
disorders and hurts of the brain are found to affect our 
powers of perception when the external organ and nerve 
are sound; but we are totally ignorant of the nature of this 
impression upon the brain: it can have no resemblance to 
the object perceived, nor does it in any degree account 
for that sensation and perception which are consequent 
upon it. These things have been argued in the second 
Essay, and shall now be taken for granted to prevent rep- 
etition. 

If the impression upon the brain be insufficient to ac- 
count for the perception of objects that are present, it can 
as little account for the memory of those that are past. 
So that if it were certain that the impressions made on the 
brain in perception remain as long as there is any memory 



ent perceptions depend upon the changes that happen to those fibres 
that are in that part of the brain in which the soul more particularly 
resides. This being supposed, the nature of memory is explained ; for 
even as the branches of a tree, which have continued some time bent in 
a certain form, still preserve an aptitude to be bent anew after the same 
manner, so the fibres of the brain, having once received certain im- 
pressions by the course of the animal spirits, and by the action of ob- 
jects, retain a long time some facility to receive these same disposi- 
tions. Now the memory consists only in this faculty, since we think 
on the same things when the brain receives the same impressions." 

A little farther on, he thinks to explain how the susceptibilities of the 
mind in this respect are affected by age : — " The most considerable dif- 
ferences that are found in a man's brain, during the whole course of 
his life, are in infancy, at his full strength, and in old age. The fibres 
of the brain in children are soft, flexible, and delicate ; a riper age dries, 
hardens, and strengthens them; but in old age they become wholly in- 
flexible, gross, and sometimes mingled with superfluous humors that 
the feeble heat of this age cannot dissipate. For as we see the fibres 
which compose the flesh harden by time, and that the flesh of a young 
partridge is without dispute more tender than that of an old one, so the 
fibres of the brain of a child or youth will be much more soft and deli- 
cate than those of persons more advanced in years." Search after 
Truth, Book II. Chap. V. and VI.; where there is more to the same 
purpose. — Ed. 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 209 

of the object, all that could be inferred from this is, that, 
by the laws of nature, there is a connection established be- 
tween that impression and the remembrance of that object. 
But how the impression contributes to this remembrance, 
we should be quite ignorant; it being impossible to dis- 
cover how thought of any kind should be produced by an 
impression on the brain or upon any part of the body. 

To say that this impression is memory is absurd, if un- 
derstood literally. If it is only meant that it is the cause 
of memory, it ought to be shown how it produces this 
effect, otherwise memory remains as unaccountable as be- 
fore. If a philosopher should undertake to account for 
the force of gunpowder in the discharge of a musket, and 
then tell us gravely that the cause of this phenomenon is 
the drawing of the trigger, we should not be much wiser 
by this account. As little are we instructed in the cause 
of memory, by being told that it is caused by a certain im- 
pression on the brain. For, supposing that impression on 
the brain were as necessary to memory as the drawing of 
the trigger is to the discharge of the musket, we are still 
as ignorant as we were how memory is produced; so that 
if the cause of memory assigned by this theory did really 
exist, it does not in any degree account for memory. 

Another defect in this theory is, that there is no evi- 
dence nor probability that the cause assigned does exist; 
that is, that the impression made upon the brain in per- 
ception remains after the object is removed. 

That impression, whatever be its nature, is caused by 
the impression made by the object upon the organ of 
sense and upon the nerve. Philosophers suppose, with- 
out any evidence, that when the object is removed, and 
the impression upon the organ and nerve ceases, the 
impression upon the brain continues and is permanent; 
that is, that when the cause is removed, the effect con- 
tinues. The brain surely does not appear more fitted to 
retain an impression than the organ and nerve. But 
granting that the impression upon the brain continues after 
its cause is removed, its effects ought to continue while it 
continues; that is, the sensation and perception should be 
as permanent as the impression upon the brain which is 
supposed to be their cause. But here again the philoso- 
18* 



210 v MEMORY. 

pher makes a second supposition, with as little evidence, 
but of a contrary nature, — to wit, that while the cause re- 
mains, the effect ceases. If this should be granted also, 
a third must be made, — that the same cause, which at 
first produced sensation and perception, does afterwards 
produce memory, — an operation essentially different both 
from sensation and perception. Again, a fourth supposi- 
tion must be made, — that this cause, though it be perma- 
nent, does not produce its effect at all times; it must be 
like an inscription which is sometimes covered with rub- 
bish, and on other occasions made legible: for the mem- 
ory of things is often interrupted for a long time, and cir- 
cumstances bring to our recollection what has been long 
forgot. After all, many things are remembered ichich 
were never perceived by the senses, being no objects of 
sense, and, therefore, which could make no impression 
upon the brain by means of the senses. 

Thus, when philosophers have piled one supposition 
upon another, as the giants piled the mountains, in order to 
scale the heavens, all is to no purpose, memory remains 
unaccountable; and we know as little how we remember 
things past as how we are conscious of the present. 

But here it is proper to observe, that although impres- 
sions upon the brain give no aid in accounting for memory, 
yet it is very probable, that, in the human frame, memory 
is dependent on some proper state or temperament of the 
brain. 

Although the furniture of our memory bears no resem- 
blance to any temperament of brain whatsoever, as, indeed, 
it is impossible it should, yet nature may have subjected 
us to this law, that a certain constitution or state of the 
brain is necessary to memory. That this is really the 
case, many well-known facts lead us to conclude. It is 
possible, that, by accurate observation, the proper means 
may be discovered of preserving that temperament of the 
brain which is favorable to memory, and of remedying the 
disorders of that temperament. This would be a very 
noble improvement of the medical art. But if it should 
ever be attained, it would give no aid to understand how 
one state of the brain assists memory, and another hurts it. 

I know certainly that the impression made upon my 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 211 

hand by the prick of a pin occasions acute pain. But can 
any philosopher show how this cause produces the effect? 
The nature of the impression is here perfectly known; but 
it gives no help to understand how that impression affects 
the mind; and if we knew as distinctly that state of the 
brain which causes memory, we should still be as ignorant 
as before how that state contributes to memory. We 
might have been so constituted, for any thing that I know, 
that the prick of a pin in the hand, instead of causing pain, 
should cause remembrance; nor would that constitution be 
more unaccountable than the present. The body and 
mind operate on each other, according to fixed laws of 
nature; and it is the business of a philosopher to discover 
those laws by observation and experiment. But when he 
has discovered them, he must rest in them as facts whose 
cause is inscrutable to the human understanding.* 

* One of the most instructive cases of the influence of the state of the 
body, or more particularly of the nervous system, on the memory, is re- 
lated by Coleridge in his Biographia Literaria, Chap. VI., which we 
shall give in his own words: — "A case of this kind occurred in a 
Catholic town in Germany, a year or two before my arrival at Gotting- 
en, and bad not then ceased to be a frequent subject of conversation. 
A young woman of four or five and twenty, who could neither read nor 
write, was seized with a nervous fever ; during which, according to the 
asseverations of all the priests and monks of the neighbourhood, she be- 
came possessed, and, as it appeared, by a learned devil. She continued 
incessantly talking Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, in very pompous tones, 
and with most distinct enunciation. This possession was rendered 
most probable by the known fact that she was, or had been, a heretic. 
Voltaire humorously advises the Devil to decline all acquaintance with 
medical men; and it would have been more to his reputation if he had 
taken this advice in the present instance. The case had attracted the 
particular attention of a young physician, and. by his statement, many 
eminent physiologists and psychologists visited the town, and cross- 
examined the case on the spot. Sheets full of her ravings were taken 
down from her own mouth, and were found to consist of sentences co- 
herent and intelligible each for itself, but with little or no connection 
with each other. Of the Hebrew, a small portion only could be traced 
to the Bible; the remainder seemed to be in the rabbinical dialect. 
All trick or conspiracy was out of the question. Not only had the 
young woman ever been a harmless, simple creature, but she was evi- 
dently laboring under a nervous fever. In the town in which she had 
been resident for many years, as a servant in different families, no solu- 
tion presented itself. The young physician, however, determined to 
trace her past life step by step ; for the patient herself was incapable of 
returning a rational answer. He, at length, succeeded in discovering 
the place where her parents had lived ; travelled thither, found them 
dead, but an uncle surviving; and from him learnt that the patient had 
been charitably taken by an old Protestant pastor at nine years old, and 



212 MEMORY. 

V. Hume's View of Memory, ,] Mr. Hume saw 
farther into the consequences of the common system con- 
cerning ideas, than any author had done before him. He 
saw the absurdity of making every object of thought 
double, and splitting it into a remote object, which has a 
separate and permanent existence, and an immediate ob- 
ject, called an idea, or impression, which is an image of 
the former, and has no existence but when we are con- 
scious of it. According to this system, we have no 
intercourse with the external world but by means of the 
internal world of ideas, which represents the other to the 
mind. 

had remained with him some years, even till the old man's death. Of 
this pastor the uncle knew nothing, but that he was a very good man. 
With great difficulty, and after much search, our young medical philoso- 

Eher discovered a niece of the pastor's, who had lived with him as his 
ousekeeper, and had inherited his effects. She remembered the girl ; 
related, that her venerable uncle had been too indulgent, and could not 
bear to hear the girl scolded ; that she was willing to have kept her, 
but that, after her patron's death, the girl herself refused to stay. Anx- 
ious inquiries were then, of course, made concerning the pastor's habits, 
and the solution of the phenomenon was soon obtained. For it appear- 
ed, that it had been the old man's custom for years to walk up and 
down a passage of his house, into which the kitchen door opened, and 
to read to himself,' with a loud voice, out of his favorite books. A con- 
siderable number of these were still in the niece's possession. She 
added that he was a very learned man, and a great Hebraist. Among 
the books were found a collection of rabbinical writings, together with 
several of the Greek and Latin fathers; and the physician succeeded 
in identifying so many passages with those taken down at the young 
woman's bedside, that no doubt could remain in any rational mind con- 
cerning the true origin of the impressions made on her nervous system." 
From the foregoing the author deduces an important and startling infer- 
ence : — " This authenticated case furnishes both proof and instance that 
relics of sensation may exist, for an indefinite time, in a latent state, 
in the very same order in which they were originally impressed; and 
as we cannot rationally suppose the feverish state of the brain to act in 
any other way than as a stimulus, this fact (and it would not be diffi- 
cult to adduce several of the same kind) contributes to make it even 
probable that all thoughts are in themselves imperishable ; and that if 
the intelligent faculty should be rendered more comprehensive, it 
would require only a different and apportioned organization, — the body 
celestial instead of the body terrestrial, — to bring before every human 
soul the collective experience of its whole ■past existence. And this, — this, 
perchance, is the dread book of judgment, in whose mysterious hiero- 
glyphics every idle word is recorded !" 

I would add that Dr. Abercrombie, in his Inquiries concerning the 
Intellectual Poioers, is naturally led by his professional experience to 
dwell more than is usual with psychologists on memory as affected by 
peculiar states of the organization. — Ed. 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 213 

He saw it was necessary to reject one of these worlds 
as a fiction, and the question was, which should be re- 
jected ; — whether all mankind, learned and unlearned, 
had feigned the existence of the external world without 
good reason, or whether philosophers had feigned the 
internal world of ideas, in order to account for the inter- 
course of the mind with the external. Mr. Hume 
adopted the first of these opinions, and employed his 
reason and eloquence in support of it. 

According to his system, therefore, impressions and 
ideas in his own mind are the only things a man can know, 
or can conceive. Nor are these ideas representatives, as 
they were in the old system. There is nothing else in 
nature, or at least within the reach of our faculties, to be 
represented. What the vulgar call the perception of an 
external object, is nothing but a strong impression upon 
the mind. What we call the remembrance of a past 
event, is nothing but a present impression or idea, weaker 
than the former. And what we call imagination is still 
a present idea, but weaker than that of memory. 

That I may not do him injustice, these are his words in 
his Treatise of Human Nature, Book I. Part I. Sect. III.: 
— "We find by experience, that when any impression 
has been present with the mind, it again makes its appear- 
ance there as an idea ; and this it may do after two dif- 
ferent ways : either when in its new appearance it retains 
a considerable degree of its first vivacity, and is some- 
what intermediate betwixt an impression and an idea ; or 
when it entirely loses that vivacity, and is a perfect idea. 
The "faculty by which we repeat our impressions in the 
first manner is called the memory, and the other the im- 
agination." 

Upon this account of memory and imagination, I shall 
make some remarks. 

First, I wish to know what w T e are here to understand 
by experience. It is said, we find all this by expe- 
rience ; and I conceive nothing can be meant by this 
experience but memory. Not that memory which our 
author defines, but memory in the common acceptation of 
the word. He maintains that memory is nothing but a 
present idea or impression. But, in defining what he 



214 MEMORY. 

takes memory to be, he takes for granted that kind of 
memory which he rejects. For can we find by experi- 
ence, that an impression, after its first appearance to the 
mind, makes a second, and a third, with different degrees 
of strength and vivacity, if we have not so distinct a re- 
membrance of its first appearance as'enables us to know 
it upon its second and third, notwithstanding that, in the 
interval, it has undergone a very considerable change ? 
All experience supposes memory ; and there can be no 
such thing as experience, without trusting to our own 
memory, or that of others : so that it appears from Mr. 
Hume's account of this matter, that he found himself to 
have that kind of memory which he acknowledges and 
defines, by exercising that kind which he rejects. 

Secondly, What is it we find by experience or mem- 
ory ? It is, " that when an impression has been present 
with the mind, it again makes its appearance there as an 
idea, and that after two different ways." 

If experience informs us of this, it certainly deceives 
us ; for the thing is impossible, and the author shows it to 
be so. Impressions and ideas are fleeting, perishable 
things, which have no existence but when we are con- 
scious of them. If an impression could make a second 
and a third appearance to the mind, it must have a con- 
tinued existence during the interval of these appearances, 
which Mr. Hume acknowledges to be a gross absurdity. 
It seems, then, that we find, by experience, a thing which 
is impossible. We are imposed upon by our experience, 
and made to believe contradictions. 

Perhaps it may be said, that these different appear- 
ances of the impression are not to be understood literally, 
but figuratively ; that the impression is personified, and 
made to appear at different times, and in different habits, 
when no more is meant but that an impression appears at 
one time ; afterwards a thing of a middle nature, between 
an impression and an idea, which we call memory ; and 
last of all a perfect idea, which we call imagination : that 
this figurative meaning agrees best with the last sentence 
of the period, where we are told that memory and imagi- 
nation are faculties, whereby we repeat our impressions 
in a more or less lively manner. To repeat an impres- 



ITS NATURE AND FUNCTIONS. 215 

sion is a figurative way of speaking, which signifies mak- 
ing a new impression similar to the former. 

If, to avoid the absurdity implied in the literal mean- 
ing, we understand the philosopher in this figurative one, 
then his definitions of memory and imagination, when 
stripped of the figurative dress, will amount to this, — 
that memory is the faculty of making a weak impression, 
and imagination the faculty of making an impression still 
weaker, after a corresponding strong one. These defini- 
tions of memory and imagination labor under two defects : 
first, that they convey no notion of the thing defined ; 
and, secondly, that they may be applied to things of a 
quite different nature from those that are defined. 

When we are said to have a faculty of making a weak 
impression after a corresponding strong one, it would not 
be easy to conjecture that this faculty is memory. Sup- 
pose a man strikes his head smartly against the wall, this 
is an impression ; now he has a faculty by which he can 
repeat this impression with less force, so as not to hurt 
him ; this, by Mr. Hume's account, must be memory. 
He has a faculty by which he can just touch the wall 
with his head, so that the impression entirely loses its 
vivacity. This surely must be imagination ; at least 
it comes as near to the definition given of it by Mr. 
Hume as any thing I can conceive. 

Thirdly, We may observe, that when we are told that 
we have a faculty of repeating our impressions in a more 
or less lively manner, this implies that we are the efficient 
causes of our ideas of memory and imagination ; but this 
contradicts what the author says a little before, where he 
proves, by what he calls a convincing argument, that im- 
pressions are the cause of their corresponding ideas. The 
argument that proves this had need, indeed, to be very con- 
vincing, whether we make the idea to be a second ap- 
pearance of the impression, or a new impression similar 
to the former. If the first be true, then the impression 
is the cause of itself. If the second, then the impres- 
sion after it has gone, and has no existence, produces 
the idea.* 

* To the works already cited as treating of memory, we may add 



216 MEMORY. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF 
DURATION. 

I. Our Motion of Duration, Extension, and Number. ~\ 
From the principles laid down in the preceding chapter, 
1 think it appears that our notion of duration, as well as 
our belief of it, is got by the faculty of memory. It is 
essential to every thing remembered that it be something 
which is past ; and we cannot conceive a thing to be 
past, without conceiving some duration, more or less, 
between it and the present. As' soon, therefore, as we 
remember any thing, we must have both a notion and a 
belief of duration. It is necessarily suggested by every 
operation of our memory ; and to that faculty it ought to 
be ascribed. This is therefore a proper place to con- 
sider what is known concerning it. 

Duration, extension, and number are the measures of 
all things subject to mensuration. When we apply them 
to finite things which are measured by them, they seem 
of all things to be the most distinctly conceived, and 
most within the reach of human understanding. 

Extension, having three dimensions, has an endless 
variety of modifications, capable of being accurately de- 
fined ; and their various relations furnish the human mind 
with its most ample field of demonstrative reasoning. 
Duration, having only one^dimension, has fewer modifica- 
tions ; but these are clearly understood ; and their rela- 
tions admit of measure, proportion, and demonstrative 
reasoning. 

Number is called discrete quantity, because it is com- 
pounded of units, which are all equal and similar, and it 
can only be divided into units. This is true, in some 



Wolff's Psychologia Empirica, Part I. Sect. II. Cap. V. ; Beattie's 
Dissertations Moral and Critical, the first being Of Memory and Imagi- 
nation ; Stewart's Elements, who has given a long chapter to this sub- 
ject; and Feinagle's New Art of Memory, to which is prefixed some 
account of the principal systems of Artificial Memory. — Ed. 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 217 

sense, even of fractions of unity, to which we now com- 
monly give the name of number. For in every fractional 
number the unit is supposed to be subdivided into a cer- 
tain number of equal parts, which are the units of that 
denomination, and the fractions of that denomination are 
only divisible into units of the same denomination. Du- 
ration and extension are not discrete, but continued quan- 
tity. They consist of parts perfectly similar, but divisible 
ivithout end. 

In order to aid our conception of the magnitude and 
proportions of the various intervals of duration, we find 
it necessary to give a name to some known portion of it, 
such as an hour, a day, a year. These we consider as 
units, and by the number of them contained in a larger 
interval, we form a distinct conception of its magnitude. 
A similar expedient we find necessary to give us a dis- 
tinct conception of the magnitudes and proportions of 
things extended. Thus, number is found necessary, as a; 
common measure of extension and duration. But this, 
perhaps, is owing to the weakness of our understanding. 
It has even been discovered by the sagacity of mathe- 
maticians, that this expedient does not in all cases answer 
its intention. For there are proportions of continued 
quantity, which cannot be perfectly expressed by num- 
bers ; such as that between the diagonal and side of a 
square, and many others. 

The parts of duration have to other parts of it the 
relations of prior and posterior, and to the present they 
have the relations of past and future. The notion of 
past is immediately suggested by memory, as has been 
before observed. And when we have got the notions of 
present and past, and of prior and posterior, we can 
from these frame a notion of the future ; for the future is 
that which is posterior to the present. Nearness and dis- 
tance are relations equally applicable to time and to place. 
Distance in time, and distance in place, are things so dif- 
ferent in their nature, and so like in their relation, that it 
is difficult to determine whether the name of distance is 
applied to both in the same or an analogical sense. 

The extension of bodies, which we perceive by our 
senses, leads us necessarily to the conception and belief 
19 



218 MEMORY. 

of a space which remains immovable when the body is 
removed. And the duration of events which we remem- 
ber leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of a 
duration, which would have gone on uniformly, though 
the event had never happened.* Without space there 
can be nothing that is extended. And without time there 
can be nothing that has duration. This I think undeni- 
able. And yet we find that extension and duration are 
not more clear and intelligible than space and time are 
dark and difficult objects of contemplation. 

As there must be space wherever any thing extended 
does or can exist, and time when there is or can be any 
thing that has duration, we can set no bounds to either, 
even in our imagination. They defy all limitation. The 
one swells in our conception to immensity, the other to 
eternity. 

An eternity past is an object which we cannot compre- 
hend ; but a beginning of time, unless we take it in a 
figurative sense, is a contradiction. By a common figure 
of speech, we give the name of time to those motions 
and revolutions by which we measure it, such as days and 

* If space and time be necessary generalizations from experience, this 
is contrary to Reid's own doctrine, that experience can give us no 
necessarij knowledge. If, again, they be necessary and original notions, 
the account of their origin here given is incorrect. It should have 
been said that experience is not the source of their existence, but only 
the occasion of their manifestation. On this subject, see, instar omnium, 
Cousin on Locke, in his Cours de Philosophic, Tome II. Lecons XVII., 
XVIII. This admirable work has been well translated into Eng- 
lish by an American philosopher, Mr. Henry ; but the eloquence and 
precision of the author can only be properly appreciated by those who 
study the work in the original language. The reader may, however, 
consult likewise Stewart's Philosophical. Essays, Essay II. Chap. II. ; 
and Royer Collard's Fragments, IX. and X. These authors, from their 
more limited accpuaintance with the speculations of the German phi- 
losophers, are, however, less on a level with the problem. — H. 

There can be no doubt that Reid held space and time to be " neces- 
sary and original notions." His language may sometimes be inexact; 
but we are not aware that he ever makes experience " the source " of 
our notion of time ; when he speaks of experience as necessary to 
our having this notion, he has in view the chronological, and not the 
logical, order of our knowledge. Farther on he says more explicitly, — 
"I know of no ideas or notions that have a better claim to be accounted 
simple and original, than those of space and time." And, again, he says 
of time, — " As it is one of the simplest objects of thought, the concep- 
tion of it must be purely the effect of our constitution, and given us by 
some original power of the mind." — Ed. 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 219 

years. We can conceive a beginning of these sensible 
measures of time, and say that there was a time when 
they were not, a time undistinguished by any motion or 
change ; but to say that there was a time before all time 
is a contradiction. 

All limited duration is comprehended in time, and all 
limited extension in space. These, in their capacious 
womb, contain all finite existences, but are contained by 
none. Created things have their particular place in space, 
and their particular place in time ; but time is everywhere, 
and space at all times. They embrace each the other, 
and have that mysterious union which the schoolmen con- 
ceived between soul and body. The whole of each is 
in every part of the other. 

We are at a loss to what category, or class of things, 
we ought to refer them. They are not beings, but rather 
the receptacles of every created being, without which it 
could not have had the possibility of existence. Phi- 
losophers have endeavoured to reduce all the objects of 
human thought to these three classes, substances, modes, 
and relations. To which of them shall we refer time, 
space, and number, the most common objects of thought ? 

Sir Isaac Newton thought that the. Deity, by existing 
everywhere, and at all times, constitutes time and space, 
immensity and eternity. This probably suggested to his 
great friend, Dr. Clarke, what he calls the argument a 
priori for the existence of an immense and eternal Being. 
Space and time, he thought, are only abstract or partial con- 
ceptions of an immensity and eternity which force them- 
selves upon our belief. And as immensity and eternity 
are not substances, they must be the attributes of a Being 
who is necessarily immense and eternal. These are the 
speculations of men of superior genius. But whether 
they be as solid as they are sublime, or whether they be 
the wanderings of imagination in a region beyond the 
limits of human understanding, I am unable to determine. 

The schoolmen made eternity to be a nunc stans, — 
that is, a moment of time that stands still. This was to 
put a spoke into the wheel of time, and might give satis- 
faction to those who are to be satisfied by words without 
meaning. But I can as easily believe a circle to be a 
square, as time to stand still. 



220 MEMORY. 

Such paradoxes and riddles, if I may so call them, 
men are involuntarily led into when they reason about 
time and space, and attempt to comprehend their nature. 
They are probably things of which the human faculties 
give an imperfect and inadequate conception. Hence 
difficulties arise which w T e in vain attempt to overcome, 
and doubts which we are unable to resolve. Perhaps 
some faculty which we possess not is necessary to re- 
move the darkness which hangs over them, and makes us 
so apt to bewilder ourselves when we reason about them. 

IT. Locke's Account of the Origin of Ideas.'] It was 
a very laudable attempt of Mr. Locke " to inquire into 
the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever else you 
please to call them, which a man observes, and is con- 
scious to himself he has in his mind, and the ways whereby 
the understanding comes to be furnished with them." No 
man was better qualified for this investigation ; and I be- 
lieve no man ever engaged in it with a more sincere love 
of truth. His success, though great, would, I apprehend, 
have been greater, if he had not too early formed a sys- 
tem or hypothesis upon this subject, without all the cau- 
tion and patient induction which are necessary in drawing 
general conclusions from facts. 

The sum of his doctrine I take to be this : — That all 
our ideas or notions may be reduced to two classes, the 
simple and the complex ; that the simple are purely the 
work of nature, the understanding being merely passive in 
receiving them, that they are all suggested by two powers 
of the mind, — to wit, sensation and reflection, — and that 
they are the materials of all our knowledge ; that the other 
class, consisting of complex ideas, are formed by the un- 
derstanding itself, which, being once stored with simple 
ideas of sensation and reflection, has the power to repeat, 
to compare, and to combine them even to an almost in- 
finite variety, and so can make at pleasure new complex 
ideas ; but that it is not in the power of the most exalted 
wit, or enlarged understanding, by any quickness or varie- 
ty of thought, to invent or frame one new simple idea in 
the mind, not taken in by the two ways before mentioned. 
As our power over the material world reaches only to the 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 221 

compounding, dividing, and putting together, in various 
forms, the matter which God has made, but reaches not 
to the production or annihilation of a single atom, so we 
may compound, compare, and abstract the original and 
simple ideas which nature has given us, but are unable to 
fashion in our understanding any simple idea, not received 
in by our senses from external objects, or by reflection 
from the operations of our own mind about them. 

Mr. Locke says, that, by reflection, he would be un- 
derstood to mean "the notice which the mind takes of 
its own operations, and the manner of them." This, I 
think, we commonly call consciousness ; from which, in- 
deed, we derive all the notions we have of the operations 
of our own minds ; and he often speaks of the operations 
of our own minds as the only objects of reflection. 
When reflection is taken in this confined sense, to say 
that all our ideas are ideas either of sensation or reflection, 
is to say that every thing we can conceive is either some 
object of sense, or some operation of our own minds ; 
which is far from being true. 

But the word reflection is commonly used in a much 
more extensive sense ; it is applied to many operations of 
the mind with more propriety than to that of conscious- 
ness. We reflect, when we remember or call to mind 
what is past, and survey it with attention. We reflect, 
when we define, when we distinguish, when we judge, 
when we reason, whether about things material or intel- 
lectual. When reflection is taken in this sense, which is 
more common, and therefore more proper,* than the sense 
which Mr. Locke has put upon it, it may be justly said to 
be the only source of all our distinct and accurate notions 
of things. For, although our first notions of material things 
are got by the external senses, and our first notions of the 
operations of our own minds by consciousness, these first 
notions are neither simple nor clear. Our senses and our 
consciousness are continually shifting from one object to 

* This is not correct ; and the employment of reflection in another 
meaning than that of eVicrTpo^i) 7rp6s iavro, — the reflex knowledge 
or consciousness which the mind has of its own affections, — is wholly 
a secondary and less proper signification. See Note I H. 

On the use of the term reflection, see page 23 of this volume. — Ed. 

19* 



222 MEMORY. 

another ; their operations are transient and momentary, 
and leave no distinct notion of their objects, until they are 
recalled by memory, examined with attention, and com- 
pared with other things. 

This reflection is not one power of the mind ; it com- 
prehends many ; such as recollection, attention, distin- 
guishing, comparing, judging. By these powers our minds 
are furnished, not only with many simple and original no- 
tions, but with all our notions which are accurate and 
well defined, and which alone are the proper materials of 
reasoning. Many of these are neither notions of the ob- 
jects of sense, nor of the operations of our own minds, 
and therefore neither ideas of sensation nor of reflection, 
in the sense that Mr. Locke gives to reflection. But if 
any one chooses to call them ideas of reflection, taking 
the word in the more common and proper sense, I have 
no objection. 

Mr. Locke seems to me to have used the word reflec- 
tion sometimes in that limited sense which he has given to 
it in the definition before mentioned, and sometimes to 
have fallen unawares into the common sense of the word ; 
and by this ambiguity his account of the origin of our ideas 
is darkened and perplexed. 

III. Strictures on Locke's Theory of the Origin of the 
Idea of Duration.] Having premised these things in gen- 
eral of Mr. Locke's theory of the origin of our ideas or 
notions, I proceed to some observations on his account of 
the idea of duration. 

" Reflection," he says, " upon the train of ideas, which 
appear one after another in our minds, is that which fur- 
nishes us with the idea of succession : and the distance 
between any two parts of that succession is that we call 
duration." 

If it be meant that the idea of succession is prior to 
that of duration, either in time or in the order of nature, 
this, I think, is impossible, because succession, as Dr. 
Price justly observes, presupposes duration, and can in no 
sense be prior to it ; and therefore it would be more 
proper to derive the idea of succession from that of dura- 
tion. 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 223 

But how do we get the idea of succession ? It is, says 
he, by reflecting " upon the train of ideas, which appear 
one after another in our minds." Reflecting upon the 
train of ideas can be nothing but remembering it, and giv- 
ing attention to what our memory testifies concerning it ; 
for if we did not remember it, we could not have a thought 
about it. So that it is evident that this reflection includes 
remembrance, without which there could be no reflection 
on what is past, and consequently no idea of succession. 

It may also be observed, that, if we speak strictly and 
philosophically, no kind of succession can be an ob- 
ject either of the senses or of consciousness ; because the 
operations of both are confined to the present point of 
time, and there can be no succession in a point of time ; 
and on that account the motion of a body, which is a suc- 
cessive change of place, could not be observed by the 
senses alone without the aid of memory. 

As this observation seems to contradict the common 
sense and common language of mankind, when they affirm 
that they see a body move, and hold motion to be an ob- 
ject of the senses, it is proper to take notice, that this 
contradiction between the philosopher and the vulgar is 
apparent only, and not real. It arises from this, that 
philosophers and the vulgar differ in the meaning they put 
upon what is called the present time, and are thereby led 
to make a different limit between sense and memory. 

Philosophers give the name of present to that indivisible 
point of time which divides the future from the past : but 
the vulgar find it more convenient, in the affairs of life, to 
give the name of present to a portion of time which ex- 
tends more or less, according to circumstances, into the 
past or the future. Hence we say, the present hour, the 
present year, the present century, though one point only 
of these periods can be present in the philosophical 
sense. 

It has been observed by grammarians, that the present 
tense in verbs is not confined to an indivisible point of 
time, but is so far extended as to have a beginning, a mid- 
dle, and an end ; and that, in the most copious and accu- 
rate languages, these different parts of the present are 
distinguished by different forms of the verb. 



224 MEMORY. 

As the purposes of conversation make it convenient to 
extend what is called the present, the same reason leads 
men to extend the province of sense, and to carry its limit 
as far back as they carry the present. Thus a man may 
say, I saw such a person just now. It would be ridiculous 
to find fault with this way of speaking, because it is au- 
thorized by custom, and has a distinct meaning : but if we 
speak philosophically, the senses do not testify what we 
saw, but only what we see ; what I saw last moment I 
consider as the testimony of sense, though it is now only 
the testimony of memory. There is no necessity in com- 
mon life of dividing accurately the provinces of sense and 
of memory ; and therefore we assign to sense, not an in- 
divisible point of time, but that small portion of time 
which we call the present, which has a beginning, a mid- 
dle, and an end. 

Hence it is easy to see, that, though in common lan- 
guage we speak with perfect propriety and truth when we 
say that we see a body move, and that motion is an ob- 
ject of sense, yet when as philosophers we distinguish ac- 
curately the province of sense from that of memory, we 
can no more see what is past, though but a moment ago, 
than we can remember what is present ; so that, speaking 
philosophically, it is only by the aid of memory that we 
discern motion, or any succession whatsoever. We see 
the present place of the body ; we remember the succes- 
sive advance it made to that place : the first can, then, 
only give us a conception of motion, when joined to the 
last. 

Having considered the account given by Mr. Locke 
of the idea of succession, we shall next consider how, 
from the idea of succession, he derives the idea of dura- 
tion. 

" The distance," he says, " between any parts of that 
succession, or between the appearance of any two ideas 
in our minds, is that we call duration." 

To conceive this the more distinctly, let us call the 
distance between an idea and that which immediately suc- 
ceeds it, one element of duration : the distance between 
an idea and the second that succeeds it, two elements, 
and so on : if ten such elements make duration, then one 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 225 

must make duration, otherwise duration must be made up 
of parts that have no duration, which is impossible. For, 
suppose a succession of as many ideas as you please, if 
none of these ideas have duration, nor any interval of du- 
ration be between one and another, then it is perfectly 
evident there can be no interval of duration between the 
first and the last, how great soever their number be. I 
conclude, therefore, that there must be duration in every 
single interval or element of which the whole duration is 
made up. Nothing, indeed, is more certain, than that every 
elementary part of duration must have duration, as every 
elementary part of extension must have extension. 

Now it must be observed, that in these elements of du- 
ration, or single intervals of successive ideas, there is no 
succession of ideas ; yet we must conceive them to have 
duration : whence we may conclude with certainty, that 
there is a conception of duration where there is no suc- 
cession of ideas in the mind. 

We may measure duration by the succession of thoughts 
n the mind, as we measure length by inches or feet ; but 
the notion or idea of duration must be antecedent to the 
mensuration of it, as the notion of length is antecedent to 
its being measured. 

Mr. Locke draws some conclusions from his account 
of the idea of duration, which may serve as a touchstone 
to discover how far it is genuine. 

One is, . that if it were possible for a waking man to 
keep only one idea in his mind without variation, or the 
succession of others, he would have no perception of du- 
ration at all ; and the moment he began to have this idea 
would seem to have no distance from the moment he 
ceased to have it. Now, that one idea should seem to 
have no duration, and that a multiplication of that no dura- 
tion should seem to have duration, appears to me as im- 
possible, as that the multiplication of nothing should pro- 
duce something. 

Another conclusion which the author draws from this 
theory is, that the same period of duration appears long 
to us, when the succession of ideas in our mind is quick, 
and short when the succession is slow. 

There can be no doubt but the same length of duration 



226 MEMORY. 

appears in some circumstances much longer than in oth- 
ers. The time appears long when a man is impatient 
under any pain or distress, or when he is eager in the 
expectation of some happiness : on the other hand, when 
he is pleased and happy in agreeable conversation, or de- 
lighted with a variety of agreeable objects that strike his 
senses or his imagination, time flies away, and appears 
short. According to Mr. Locke's theory, in the first of 
these cases the succession of ideas is very quick, and in 
the last very slow. I am rather inclined to think that the 
very contrary is the truth. When a man is racked with 
pain, or with expectation, he can hardly think of any 
thing but his distress ; and the more his mind is occupied 
by that sole object, the longer the time appears. On the 
other hand, when he is entertained with cheerful music, 
with lively conversation, and brisk sallies of wit, there 
seems to be the quickest succession of ideas, but the time 
appears shortest. I have heard a military officer, a man 
of candor and observation, say, that the time he was en- 
gaged in hot action always appeared to him much shorter 
than it really was. Yet I think it cannot be supposed, 
that the succession of ideas was then slower than usual.* 

If the idea of duration were got merely by the succes- 
sion of ideas in our minds, that succession must to our- 
selves appear equally quick at all times, because the only 
measure of duration would be the number of succeeding 
ideas ; but I believe every man capable of reflection will 
be sensible, that at one time his thoughts come slowly 
and heavily, and at another time have a much quicker and 
livelier motion. 

I know of no ideas or notions that have a better claim 
to be accounted simple and original, than those of space 
and time. It is essential both to space and time to be 
made up of parts, but every part is similar to the whole, 
and of the same nature. Different parts of space, as it 
has three dimensions, may differ both in figure and in 
magnitude ; but time having only one dimension, its parts 
can differ only in magnitude ; and as it is one of the 



* In travelling, the time seems very short while passing; very long 
in retrospect. The cause is obvious. — H. 



THE IDEA OF DURATION. 227 

simplest objects of thought, the conception of it must be 
purely the effect of our constitution, and given us by some 
original power of the mind. 

The sense of seeing, by itself, gives us the conception 
and belief of only two dimensions of extension, but the 
sense of touch discovers three ; and reason, from the 
contemplation of finite extended things, leads us necessa- 
rily to the belief of an immensity that contains them. In 
like manner, memory gives us the conception and belief 
of finite intervals of duration. From the contemplation 
of these, reason leads us necessarily to the belief of an 
eternity, which comprehends all things that have a begin- 
ning and end. Our conceptions, both of space and time, 
are probably partial and inadequate,* and therefore we 
are apt to lose ourselves, and to be embarrassed in our 
reasonings about them.f 

* They are not probably, but necessarily, partial and inadequate. For 
we are unable positively to conceive time or space either as infinite 
(i. e. without limits) or as not infinite (i. e. as limited). — H. 

t Cousin's account of the origin of the idea of time is precise and lu- 
minous. "Here, again," he tells us, " we are to distinguish the order 
of the acquisition of our ideas from their logical order. In the logical 
order of ideas, the idea of any succession of events presupposes that of 
time. There could not be any succession but upon condition of a con- 
tinuous duration, to the different points of which the several members 
of the succession may be attached. Take away the continuity of time, 
and you take away the possibility of the succession of the events ; just 
as, the continuity of space being taken away, the possibility of the j uxta- 
position and coexistence of bodies is destroyed. 

. " But in the chronological order, on the contrary, it is the idea of a 
succession of events which precedes the idea of time as including them. 
I do not mean to say in regard to time, any more than in regard to 
space, that we have a clear, distinct, and complete idea of a succession, . 
and that then the idea of time, as including this series or succession, 
springs up. I merely say, it is clearly necessary that we should have 
a perception of some events, in order to conceive that these events are 
in time, [and in order along with, and by occasion of, those events to 
have the idea of time awakened in the mind]. Time is the place of 
events, just as space is the place of bodies; whoever had no idea of 
any event [no perception or consciousness of any succession] would 
have no idea of time. If, then, the logical condition of the idea of suc- 
cession lies in the idea of time, the chronological condition of the idea 
of time is the idea of succession. 

"Now every idea of succession is undeniably an acquisition of expe- 
rience. It remains to ascertain of what experience. Is it inward or 
outward experience? The first idea of succession, — is it given in the 
spectacle of outward events, or in the consciousness of the events that 
pass within us ? 

" Take a succession of outward events. In order that these events 



223 MEMORY. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF OUR NOTION OF 
PERSONAL IDENTITY. 

I. Of Identity in General.'} The conviction which 
every man has of his identity, as far back as his memory 
reaches, needs no aid of philosophy to strengthen it ; and 
no philosophy can weaken it, without first producing some 
degree of insanity. 

The philosopher, however, may very properly con- 
sider this conviction as a phenomenon of human nature 
worthy of his attention. If he can discover its cause, 
an addition is made to his stock of knowledge : if not, it 
must be held as a part of our original constitution, or an 
effect of that constitution produced in a manner unknown 
to us. 

That we may form as distinct a notion as we are able 
of this phenomenon of the human mind, it is proper to 
consider what is meant by identity in general, what by 
our own personal identity, and how we are led into that 

may be successive, it is necessary that there should be a first event, a 
second, a third, &c. But if, when you see the second event, you do 
not remember the first, it would not be the second ; there could be for 
you no succession. You would always remain fixed at the first event, 
which would not even have the character of first to you, because there 
would be no second. The intervention of memory is necessary, then, 
in order to conceive of any succession whatever. Now memory has 
for its objects nothing external; it relates not to things, but to our- 
selves; we have no memory but of ourselves. When we say, we re- 
member such a person, we remember such a place, — it means nothing 
more than that we remember to have been seeing such a place, or we 
remember to have been hearing or seeing such a person. There is no 
memory but of ourselves, because there is no memory but where there 
is consciousness. If consciousness, then, is the condition of memory, 
and memory the condition of time, it follows that the first succession is 
given us in ourselves, in consciousness, in the proper objects and phe- 
nomena of consciousness, — in our thoughts, in our ideas." — Elements 
of Psychology, Chap. III. 

Compare Kant, Critic of Pure Reason. Transcendental ./Esthetic, 
Part I. Sect. II.; Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Part 
I. Book II. Chap. VI. - IX. ; Ballantyne's Examination of the Human 
Mind, Chap. I. Sect. II. ; Mill's Analysis of the Human Mind, Chap. 
XIV. Sect. V. — Ed. 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 229 

invincible belief and conviction which every man has of 
his own personal identity, as far as his memory reaches. 

Identity in general I take to be a relation between a 
thing which is known to exist at one time, and a thing 
which is known to have existed at another time.* If you 
ask whether they are one and the same, or two different 
things, every man of common sense understands the 
meaning of your question perfectly. Whence we may 
infer with certainty, that every man of common sense 
has a clear and distinct notion of identity. 

If you ask a definition of identity, I confess I can give 
none ; it is too simple a notion to admit of logical defini- 
tion : I can say it is a relation, but I cannot find words 
to express the specific difference between this and other 
relations, though I am in no danger of confounding it with 
any other. I can say that diversity is a contrary rela- 
tion, and that similitude and dissimilitude are another 
couple of contrary relations, which every man easily dis- 
tinguishes in his conception from identity and diversity. 

I see evidently that identity supposes an uninterrupted 
continuance of existence. That which has ceased to 
exist cannot be the same with that which afterwards 
begins to exist ; for this would be to suppose a being 
to exist after it ceased to exist, and to have had exist- 
ence before it was produced, which are manifest contra- 
dictions. Continued uninterrupted existence is therefore 
necessarily implied in identity. Hence we may infer, 
that identity cannot, in its proper sense, be applied to our 
pains, our pleasures, our thoughts, or any operation of our 
minds. The pain felt this day is not the same individual 
pain which I felt yesterday, though they may be similar 
in kind and degree, and have the same cause. The same 
may be said of every feeling, and of every operation of 
mind. They are all successive in their nature, like time 
itself, no two moments of which can be the same mo- 
ment. It is otherwise with the parts of absolute space. 
They always are, and were, and will be the same. So 

* Identity is a relation between our cognitions of a thing, and not 
between things themselves. It would, therefore, have been better in 
this sentence to have said, " a relation between a thing as hnoxcn to ex- 
ist at one time, and a thing as known to exist at another time." — H. 

20 



230 MEMORY. 

far, I think, we proceed upon clear ground in fixing the 
notion of identity in general. 

II. Nature and Origin of our Idea of Personal Iden- 
tity.] It is perhaps more difficult to ascertain with pre- 
cision the meaning of personality ; but it is not necessary 
in the present subject : it is sufficient for our purpose to 
observe, that all mankind place their personality in some- 
thing that cannot be divided, or consist of parts. A part 
of a person is a manifest absurdity. When a man loses 
his estate, his health, his strength, he is still the same 
person, and has lost nothing of his personality. If he has 
a leg or an arm cut off, he is the same person he was be- 
fore. The amputated member is no part of his person, 
otherwise it would have a right to a part of his estate, and 
be liable for a part of his engagements. It would be en- 
titled to a share of his merit and demerit, which is mani- 
festly absurd. A person is something indivisible, and is 
what Leibnitz calls a monad. 

My personal identity, therefore, implies the continued 
existence of that indivisible thing which I call myself. 
Whatever this self may be, it is something which thinks, 
and deliberates, and resolves, and acts, and suffers. I 
am not thought, I am not action, I am not feeling ; I am 
something that thinks, and acts, and suffers. My thoughts, 
and actions, and feelings, change every moment ; they 
have no continued, but a successive existence ; but that 
self or /, to which they belong, is permanent, and has the 
same relation to all the succeeding thoughts, actions, and 
feelings which I call mine. 

Such are the notions that I have of my personal identi- 
ty. But perhaps it may be said, this may all be fancy 
without reality. How do you know, — what evidence 
have you, that there is such a permanent self which has a 
claim to all the thoughts, actions, and feelings which you 
call yours ? 

To this I answer, that the proper evidence I have of 
all this is remembrance. I remember that twenty years 
ago I conversed with such a person ; I remember several 
things that passed in that conversation : my memory tes- 
tifies, not only that this was done, but that it was done by 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 231 

me who now remember it. If it was done by me, I must 
have existed at that time, and continued to exist from that 
time to the present : if the identical person whom I call 
myself had not a part in that conversation, my memory 
is fallacious ; it gives a distinct and positive testimony of 
what is not true. Every man in his senses believes what 
he distinctly remembers, and every thing he remembers 
convinces him that he existed at the time remembered. 

Although memory gives the most irresistible evidence 
of my being the identical person that did such a thing, at 
such a time, I may have other good evidence of things 
which befell me, and which I do not remember : I know 
who bare me, and suckled me, but I do not remember 
these events. 

It may here be observed, (though the observation 
would have been unnecessary, if some great philosophers 
had not contradicted it,) that it is not my remembering 
any action of mine that makes me to be the person who 
did it. This remembrance makes me to knoic assuredly 
that I did it ; but I might have done it, though I did not 
remember it. That relation to me, which is expressed by 
saying that I did it, would be the same, though I had not 
the least remembrance of it. To say that my remember- 
ing that I did such a thing, or, as some choose to express 
it, my being conscious that I did it, makes me to have 
done it, appears to me as great an absurdity as it would 
be to say, that my belief that the world was created made 
it to be created. 

When we pass judgment on the identity of other per- 
sons besides ourselves, we proceed upon other grounds, 
and determine from a variety of circumstances, which 
sometimes produce the firmest assurance, and sometimes 
leave room for doubt. The identity of persons has often 
furnished matter of serious litigation before tribunals of 
justice. But no man of a sound mind ever doubted of 
his own identity, as far as he distinctly remembered. 

The identity of a person is a perfect identity: wher- 
ever it is real, it admits of no degrees ; and it is impossi- 
ble that a person should be in part the same, and in part 
different ; because a person is a monad, and is not divisi- 
ble into parts. The evidence of identity in other persons 



232 MEMORY. 

besides ourselves does indeed admit of all degrees, from 
what we account certainty, to the least degree of proba- 
bility. But still it is true, that the same person is per- 
fectly the same, and cannot be so in part, or in some de- 
gree only. 

For this cause, I have first considered personal identity, 
as that which is perfect in its kind, and the natural meas- 
ure of that which is imperfect. 

We probably at first derive our notion of identity from 
that natural conviction which every man has from the 
dawn of reason of his oxon identity and continued exist- 
ence. The operations of our minds are all successive, 
and have no continued existence. But the thinking being 
has a continued existence, and we have an invincible be- 
lief, that it remains the same when all its thoughts and 
operations change. 

Our judgments of the identity of objects of sense seem to 
be formed much upon the same grounds as our judgments 
of the identity of other persons besides ourselves. Wher- 
ever we observe great similarity, we are apt to presume 
identity, if no reason appears to the contrary. Two ob- 
jects ever so like, when they are perceived at the same 
time, cannot be the same ; but if they are presented to 
our senses at different times, we are apt to think them the 
same, merely from their similarity. 

Whether this be a natural prejudice, or from whatever 
cause it proceeds, it certainly appears in children from in- 
fancy ; and when we grow up, it is confirmed in most 
instances by experience : for we rarely find two individu- 
als of the same species that are not distinguishable by ob- 
vious differences. A man challenges a thief whom he 
finds in possession of his horse or his watch, only on sim- 
ilarity. When the watchmaker swears that he sold this 
watch to such a person, his testimony is grounded on 
similarity. The testimony of witnesses to the identity of 
a person is commonly grounded on no other evidence. 

Thus it appears, that the evidence we have of our own 
identity, as far back as we remember, is totally of a differ- 
ent kind from the evidence we have of the identity of 
other persons, or of objects of sense. The first is 
grounded on memory, and gives undoubted certainty. 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 233 

The last is grounded on similarity, and on other circum- 
stances, which in many cases are not so decisive as to 
leave no room for doubt. 

It may likewise be observed, that the identity of objects 
of sense is never perfect. All bodies, as they consist of 
innumerable parts that may be disjoined from them by a 
great variety of causes, are subject to continual changes 
of their substance, increasing, diminishing, changing in- 
sensibly. When such alterations are gradual, because 
language could not afford a different name for every dif- 
ferent state of such a changeable being, it retains the same 
name, and is considered as the same thing. Thus we say 
of an old regiment, that it did such a thing a century ago, 
though there now is not a man alive who then belonged to 
it. We say a tree is the same in the seed-bed and in the 
forest. A ship of war, which has successively changed 
her anchors, her tackle, her sails, her masts, her planks, 
and her timbers, while she keeps the same name, is the 
same. 

The identity, therefore, which we ascribe to bodies, 
whether natural or artificial, is not perfect identity ; it is 
rather something which, for the conveniency of speech, 
we call identity. It admits of a great change of the sub- 
ject, providing the change be gradual ; sometimes even 
of a total change. And the changes which in common 
language are made consistent with identity differ from 
those that are thought to destroy it, not in kind, but in 
number and degree. It has no fixed nature when applied 
to bodies ; and questions about the identity of a body are 
very often questions about words. But identity, when 
applied to persons, has no ambiguity, and admits not of 
degrees, or of more and less. It is the foundation of all 
rights and obligations, and of all accountableness ; and 
the notion of it is fixed and precise. 

III. Strictures on Lockers Account of Personal Iden- 
tity.] In a long chapter, Of Identity and Diversity, Mr. 
Locke has made many ingenious and just observations, 
and some which I think cannot be defended. I shall only 
take notice of the account he gives of our own personal 
identity. His doctrine upon this subject has been cen- 
20* 



234 MEMORY. 

sured by Bishop Butler, in a short essay subjoined to his 
Analogy, with whose sentiments I perfectly agree. 

Identity, as has been observed, supposes the continued 
existence of the being of which it is affirmed, and there- 
fore can be applied only to things which have a continued 
existence. While any being continues to exist, it is the 
same being ; but two beings which have a different begin- 
ning or a different ending of their existence cannot pos- 
sibly be the same. To this, I think, Mr. Locke agrees. 

He observes, very justly, that to know what is meant 
by the same person, we must consider what the word 
person stands for ; and he defines a person to be an intel- 
ligent being, endowed with reason and with consciousness, 
which last he thinks inseparable from thought. From 
this definition of a person, it must necessarily follow, that, 
while the intelligent being continues to exist and to be 
intelligent, it must be the same person. To say that the 
intelligent being is the person, and yet that the person 
ceases to exist while the intelligent being continues, or 
that the person continues while the intelligent being ceases 
to exist, is to my apprehension a manifest contradiction. 

One would think that the definition of a person should 
perfectly ascertain the nature of personal identity, or 
wherein it consists, though it might still be a question how 
we come to know and be assured of our personal identity. 

Mr. Locke tells us, however, " that personal identity, 
that is, the sameness of a rational being, consists in con- 
sciousness alone, and, as far as this consciousness can be 
extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far 
reaches the identity of that person. So that whatever 
has the consciousness of present and past actions is the 
same person to whom they belong." * 

* See Essay, Book II. Chap. XXVII. - XXIX. The passage given 
as a quotation in the text is the sum of Locke's doctrine, but not exactly 
in his words. Long before Butler, to whom the merit is usually as- 
cribed, Locke's doctrine of personal identity had been attacked and 
refuted. This was done even by his earliest critic, John Sergeant, 
whose words, as he is an author' wholly unknown to all historians of 
philosophy, and his works of the rarest, I shall quote. He thus argues : 
— " But to speak to the point. Consciousness of any action or other 
accident we have now, or have had, is nothing but our knowledge that 
it belonged to us ; and since we both agree that we have no innate 
knowledges, it follows that all both actual and habitual knowledges 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 235 

This doctrine has some strange consequences, which 
the author was aware of. (1.) Such as, that if the same 
consciousness can be transferred from one intelligent 
being to another, which he thinks we cannot show to be 
impossible, then two or twenty intelligent beings may be 
the sarin person. (2.) And if the intelligent being may- 
lose the consciousness of the actions done by him, which 
surely is possible, then he is not the person that did those 
actions ; so that one intelligent being may be two or twenty 
different persons, if he shall so often lose the conscious- 
ness of his former actions. 

(3.) There is another consequence of this doctrine, 
which follows no less necessarily, though Mr. Locke 
probably did not see it. It is, that a man may be, and 
at the same time not be, the person that did a particular 
action. Suppose a brave officer to have been flogged 
when a boy at school for robbing an orchard, to have 
taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign, 
and to have been made a general in advanced life ; sup- 
pose, also, which must be admitted to be possible, that, 
when he took the standard, he was conscious of his hav- 
ing been flogged at school, and that, when made a general, 
he was conscious of his taking the standard, but had 
absolutely lost the consciousness of his flogging. These 
things being supposed, it follows, from Mr. Locke's doc- 
trine, that he who was flogged at school is the same per- 
son who took the standard, and that he who took the 

which we have are acquired or accidental to the subject or knoicer. 
Wherefore the man, or that thing which is to be the knower, must have 
had individuality or personality from other principles antecedently to this 
knowledge called consciousness ; and consequently, he will retain his 
identity, or continue the same man, or (which is equivalent) the same 
person, as long as he has those individuating principles. What those 
individuating principles are which constitute the man, or this knowing 
individuum, I have shown above. It being, then, most evident, that a 
man must be the same, ere he can know or be conscious that he is the. 
same, all his (Locke's) laborious descants and extravagant conse- 
quences, which are built on this supposition that consciousness indi- 
viduates the person, can need no farther reflection." — Solid Philosophy 
Asserted, Reflection XIV. § 14. 

The same objection was also made by Leibnitz in his strictures on 
Locke's Essay. See Nouveaux Essais, Liv. II. Chap. XXVII. For 
the best criticism of Locke's doctrine of personal identity, I may refer 
the reader to M. Cousin's Cours de Philosophic, Tome II. Leqon XVIII. 
[Elements of Psychology, Chap. III.] — H. 



236 MEMORY. 

standard is the same person who was made a general. 
Whence it follows, if there be any truth in logic, that the 
general is the same person with him who was flogged at 
school. But the general's consciousness does not reach 
so far back as his flogging ; therefore, according to Mr. 
Locke's doctrine, he is not the person who was fogged. 
Therefore the general is, and at the same time is not, the 
same person with him who was flogged at school.* 

Leaving the consequences of this doctrine to those who 
have leisure to trace them, we may observe, with regard 
to the doctrine itself, — 

First, that Mr. Locke attributes to consciousness the 
conviction we have of our past actions, as if a man may 
now be conscious of what he did twenty years ago. It is 
impossible to understand the meaning of this, unless by 
consciousness be meant memory, the only faculty by which 
we have an immediate knowledge of our past actions, f 

Sometimes, in popular discourse, a man says he is 
conscious that he did such a thing, meaning that he dis- 
tinctly remembers that he did it. It is unnecessary, in 
common discourse, to fix accurately the limits between 
consciousness and memory. This was formerly shown 
to be the case with regard to sense and memory : and 
therefore distinct remembrance is sometimes called sense, 
sometimes consciousness, without any inconvenience. 
But this ought to be avoided in philosophy, otherwise we 
confound the different powers of the mind, and ascribe to 
one what really belongs to another. If a man can be 
conscious of what he did twenty years or twenty minutes 
ago, there is no use for memory, nor ought we to allow 
that there is any such faculty. The faculties of conscious- 
ness and memory are chiefly distinguished by this, that the 
first is an immediate knowledge of the present, the second 
an immediate knowledge of the past.J 

* Compare Buffier's Traits des Premieres Verites, § 505, who makes 
a similar criticism. — H. 

t Locke, it wil! be remembered, does not, like Reid, view conscious- 
ness as a coordinate faculty with memory ; but under consciousness he 
properly comprehends the various faculties as so many special modifi- 
cations. — H. * 

X As already stated, all immediate knowledge of the past is contra- 
dictory. This observation I cannot again repeat. See Note B. — H. 

We copy a passage from the Note referred to, though it is little more 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 237 

When, therefore, Mr. Locke's notion of personal 
identity is properly expressed, it is, that personal identity 
consists in distinct remembrance ; for, even in the popular 
sense, to say that I am conscious of a past action means 
nothing else than that I distinctly remember that I did it. 

Secondly, it may be observed, that, in this doctrine, not 
only is consciousness confounded with memory, but, 
which is still more strange, personal identity is con- 
founded with the evidence which we have of our personal 
identity. 

It is very true, that my remembrance that I did such a 
thing is the evidence I have that I am the identical per- 
son who did it. And this, I am apt to think, Mr. Locke 
meant. But to say that my remembrance that I did such 
a thing, or my consciousness, makes me the person who 
did it, is, in my apprehension, an absurdity too gross to 
be entertained by any man who attends to the meaning of 
it ; for it is to attribute to memory or consciousness a 
strange magical power of producing its object, though that 
object must have existed before the memory or conscious- 
ness which produced it. Consciousness is the testimony 
of one faculty ; memory is the testimony of another fac- 
ulty; and to say that the testimony is the cause of the 
thing testified, this surely is absurd, if any thing be, and 
could not have been said by Mr. Locke, if he had not 
confounded the testimony with the thing testified. 

When a horse that was stolen is found and claimed by 
the owner, the only evidence he can have, or that a judge 
or witnesses can have, that this is the very identical horse 

than a repetition of what was said before : — " As not noio present in time, 
an immediate knowledge of the past is impossible. The past is only me- 
diately cognizable in and through a present modification relative to, and 
representative of, it, as having been. To speak of an immediate knowl- 
edge of the past involves a contradiction in adjecto. For to know the 
past immediately, it must be known in itself; — and to be known in it- 
self it must be known as now existing. But the past is just a negation of 
the now existent: its very notion, therefore, excludes the possibility of 
its being immediately known." It is probable that, by an immediate 
knowledge of the past, Reid meant " a knowledge effected not through 
the supposed intervention of a vicarious object, numerically different 
from the object existing and the mind knowing, but through a represen- 
tation of the past or real object, in and by the mind; in other words, 
that by mediate knowledge in this connection he denoted a non-egois- 
tical, by immediate knowledge an egoistical representation." — Ed. 



238 MEMORY. 

which was his property, is similitude. But would it not 
be ridiculous from this to infer that the identity of a horse 
consists in similitude only ? The only evidence I have 
that I am the identical person who did such actions is, that 
I remember distinctly I did them ; or, as Mr. Locke ex- 
presses it, I am conscious I did them. To infer from 
this, that personal identity consists in consciousness, is an 
argument which, if it had any force, would prove the 
identity of a stolen horse to consist solely in similitude. 

Thirdly, is it not strange that the sameness or identity 
of a person should consist in a thing which is continually 
changing, and is not any two minutes the same ? 

Our consciousness, our memory, and every operation 
of the mind, are still flowing like the water of a river, or 
like time itself. The consciousness I have this moment 
can no more be the same consciousness I had last mo- 
ment, than this moment can be the last moment. Identity 
can only be affirmed of things which have a continued 
existence. Consciousness, and every kind of thought, are 
transient and momentary, and have no continued existence; 
and, therefore, if personal identity consisted in conscious- 
ness, it would certainly follow, that no man is the same 
person any two moments of his life ; and as the right and 
justice of reward and punishment are founded on personal 
identity, no man could be responsible for his actions. 

But though I take this to be the unavoidable conse- 
quence of Mr. Locke's doctrine concerning personal 
identity, and though some persons may have liked the 
doctrine the better on this account, I am far from imput- 
ing any thing of this kind to Mr. Locke. He was too 
good a man not to have rejected with abhorrence a doc- 
trine which he believed to draw this consequence after it. 

Fourthly, there are many expressions used by Mr. 
Locke, in speaking of personal identity, which to me are 
altogether unintelligible, unless we suppose that he con- 
founded that sameness or identity which we ascribe to 
an individual with the identity which, in common discourse, 
is often ascribed to many individuals of the same species. 

When we say that pain and pleasure, consciousness 
and memory, are the same in all men, this sameness can 
only mean similarity, or sameness of kind. That the 



OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 239 

pain of one man can be the same individual pain with that 
of another man is no less impossible, than that one man 
should be another man : the pain felt by me yesterday- 
can no more be the pain I feel to-day, than yesterday can 
be this day ; and the same thing may be said of every 
passion and of eve*ry operation of the mind. The same 
kind or species of operation may be in different men, or 
in the same man at different times ; but it is impossible 
that the same individual operation should be in different 
men, or in the same man at different times. 

When Mr. Locke, therefore, speaks of " the same 
consciousness being continued through a succession of 
different substances"; when he speaks of "repeating 
the idea of a past action, with the same consciousness we 
had of it at the first," and of " the same consciousness 
extending to actions past and to come " ; these expres- 
sions are to me unintelligible, unless he means not the 
same individual consciousness, but a consciousness that is 
similar, or of the same kind. If our personal identity 
consists in consciousness, as this consciousness cannot be 
the same individually any two moments, but only of the 
same kind, it would follow, that we are not for any two 
moments the same individual persons, but the same kind 
of persons. As our consciousness sometimes ceases to 
exist, as in sound sleep, our personal identity must cease 
with it. Mr. Locke allows, that the same thing cannot 
have two beginnings of existence, so that our identity 
would be irrecoverably gone every time we ceased to think, 
if it was but for a moment.* 

* In addition to the works already cited or refered to on the subjects 
of personality and personal identity, consult Bouchitte, Persistance de 
la Personnaliti aprts la Mort, published in the Memoir es of the Moral 
Section of the French Academy, Recueil des Savants Eft-angers, Tome 
II.; Broussais, De l' Irritation, Part I. Chap. V. Sect. IV.; Mill's Anal- 
ysis, Chap. XIV. Sect. VII. ; Young's Intellectual Philosophy, Lect. 
XL1II., XLIV.; Leroux, De I'Humanite, Introduction. — Ed. 



ESSAY IY. 

OF CONCEPTION 



CHAPTER I. 

OF CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION IN 
GENERAL. 

I. Definition of the Term., with its Syno?iymes.~] Con- 
ceiving, imagining,* apprehending, understanding, hav- 
ing a notion of a thing, are common words used to express 
that operation of the understanding which the logicians 
call simple apprehension. The having an idea of a thing 
is, in common language, used in the same sense, chiefly I 
think since Mr. Locke's time.f 

Logicians define simple apprehension to be the bare 
conception of a thing without any judgment or belief 
about it. If this were intended for a strictly logical defi- 
nition, it might be a just objection to it, that conception 

* Imagining should not be confounded with conceiving, &c. ; though 
some philosophers, as Gassendi, have not attended to the distinction. 
The words conception, concept, notion, should be limited to the thought 
of what cannot be represented in the imagination, — as the thought 
suggested by a general term. The Leibnitzians call this symbolical, in 
contrast to intuitive knowledge. This is the sense in which conceptio 
and conceptus have been usually and correctly employed. Mr. Stewart, 
on the other hand, arbitrarily limits conception to the reproduction, in 
imagination, of an object of sense as actually perceived. See Elements, 
Part I. Chap. III. The discrimination in question is best made in the 
German language of philosophy, where the term Begriffe (concep- 
tions) is strongly contrasted with Anschauungen (intuitions), Bilden 
(images), &c. — H. 

t In this country should have been added. Locke only introduced 
into English philosophy the term idea in its Cartesian universality. 
Prior to him, the word was only used with us in its Platonic significa- 
tion. Before Descartes, David Buchanan, a Scotch philosopher, who 
sojourned in France, had, however, employed idea in an equal latitude. 
See Note G. — H. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 241 

and apprehension are only synonymous words; and that 
we may as well define conception by apprehension, as ap- 
prehension by conception; but it ought to be remembered, 
that the most simple operations of the mind cannot be 
logically defined. To have a distinct notion of them, we 
must attend to them as we feel them in our own minds. 
He that would have a distinct notion of a scarlet color 
will never attain it by a definition; he must set it before 
his eye, attend to it, compare it with the colors that come 
nearest to it, and observe the specific difference, which he 
will in vain attempt to express. 

Every man is conscious that he can conceive a thou- 
sand things, of which he believes nothing at all; as a horse 
with wings, a mountain of gold; but although conception 
may be without any degree of belief, even the weakest be- 
lief cannot be without conception. He that believes 
must have some conception of what he believes. 

Without attempting a definition of this operation of the 
mind, I shall endeavour to explain some of its properties; 
consider the theories about it ; and take notice of some 
mistakes of philosophers concerning it. 

II. Characteristic Properties of Conception.] 1. It 
may be observed, that conception enters as an ingredient 
in every operation of the mind. Our senses cannot give 
us the belief of any object, without giving some concep- 
tion of it at the same time. No man can either remember 
or reason about things of which he has no conception. 
When we will to exert any of our active powers, there 
must be some conception of what we will to do. There 
can be no desire nor aversion, love nor hatred, without 
some conception of the object. We cannot feel pain 
without conceiving it, though we can conceive it without 
feeling it. These things are self-evident. 

In every operation of the mind, therefore, in every 
thing we call thought, there must be conception. When we 
analyze the various operations either of the understanding 
or of the will, we shall always find this at the bottom, like 
the caput mortuum of the chemists, or the materia prima 
of the Peripatetics; but though there is no operation of 
mind without conception, yet it may be found naked, de- 
21 



242 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

tached from all others, and then it is called simple appre- 
hension, or the bare conception of a thing. 

As all the operations of our mind are expressed by 
language, every one knows that it is one thing to under- 
stand what is said, to conceive or apprehend its meaning, 
whether it be a word, a sentence, or a discourse; it is an- 
other thing to judge of it, to assent or dissent, to be per- 
suaded or moved. The first is simple apprehension, and 
may be without the last, but the last cannot be without the 
first. 

2. In bare conception there can neither be truth nor 
falsehood, because it neither affirms nor denies. Every 
judgment, and every proposition by which judgment is ex- 
pressed, must be true or false; and the qualities of true 
and false, in their proper sense, can belong to nothing but 
to judgments, or to propositions which express judgment. 
In the bare conception of a thing there is no judgment, 
opinion, or belief included, and therefore it cannot be 
either true or false. 

But it may be said, Is there any thing more certain 
than that men may have true or false conceptions, true or 
false apprehensions, of things ? I answer, that such ways 
of speaking are indeed so common, and so well authorized 
by custom, the arbiter of language, that it would be pre- 
sumption to censure them. It is hardly possible to avoid 
using them. But we ought to be upon our guard that we 
be not misled by them to confound things which, though 
often expressed by the same words, are really different. 
We must therefore remember, that all the words by which 
we signify the bare conception of a thing are likewise 
used to signify our opinions when we wish to express 
them with modesty and diffidence. Thus, instead of say- 
ing, " This is my opinion," or " This is my judgment," 
which has the air of dogmaticalness, we say, " I con- 
ceive it to be thus," which is understood as a modest dec- 
laration of our judgment. In like manner, when any thing 
is said which we take to be impossible, we say, " We 
cannot conceive it," meaning that we cannot believe it. 
And we shall always find, that, when we speak of true or 
false conceptions, we mean true or false opinions. An 
opinion, though ever so wavering, or ever so modestly 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 243 

expressed, must be either true or false ; but a bare con- 
ception, which expresses no opinion or judgment, can be 
neither. 

If we analyze those speeches in which men attribute 
truth or falsehood to our conceptions of things, we shall 
find, in every case, that there is some opinion or judgment 
implied in what they call conception. A child con- 
ceives the moon to be flat, and a foot or two broad; that 
is, this is his opinion: and when we say it is a false no- 
tion, or a false conception, we mean that it is a false opin- 
ion. He conceives the city of London to be like his 
country village; that is, he believes it to be so till he is 
better instructed. He conceives a lion to have horns; 
that is, he believes that the animal which men call a lion 
has horns. Such opinions language authorizes us to call 
conceptions; and they may be true or false. But bare 
conception, or what the logicians call simple apprehension, 
implies no opinion, however slight, and therefore can 
neither be true nor false. 

3. Of all the analogies between the operations of body 
and those of the mind, there is none so strong and so 
obvious to all mankind as that which there is between 
painting, or other plastic arts, and the power of conceiv- 
ing objects in the mind. Hence, in all languages, the 
words by which this power of the mind and its various 
modifications are expressed are analogical, and borrowed 
from those arts. We consider this power of the mind as 
a plastic power, by which we form to ourselves images of 
the objects of thought. 

In vain should we attempt to avoid this analogical lan- 
guage, for we have no other language upon the subject; yet 
it is dangerous, and apt to mislead. All analogical and 
figurative words have a double meaning; and, if we are 
not very much upon our guard, we slide insensibly from 
the borrowed and figurative meaning into the primitive. 
We are prone to carry the parallel between the things 
compared farther than it will hold, and thus very naturally 
to fall into error. 

To avoid this as far as possible in the present subject, 
it is proper to attend to the dissimilitude between conceiv- 
ing a thing in the mind, and painting it to the eye, as well 



244 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

as to their similitude. The similitude strikes and gives 
pleasure. The dissimilitude we are less disposed to ob- 
serve. But the philosopher ought to attend to it, and to 
carry it always in mind, in his reasonings on this subject, 
as a monitor, to warn him against the errors into which 
the analogical language is apt to draw him. 

When a man paints, there is some work done, which 
remains when his hand is taken off, and continues to exist 
though he should think no more of it. Every stroke of 
his pencil produces an effect, and this effect is different 
from his action in making it; for it remains and continues 
to exist when the action ceases. The action of painting 
is one thing, the picture produced is another thing. The 
first is the cause, the second is the effect. Let us 
next consider what is done when he only conceives this 
picture. He must have conceived it before he painted it: 
for this is a maxim universally admitted, that every work 
of art must first be conceived in the mind of the operator. 
What is this conception? It is an act of the mind, a 
kind of thought. This cannot be denied. But does it 
produce any effect besides the act itself? Surely com- 
mon sense answers this question in the negative: for every 
one knows that it is one thing to conceive, another thing 
to bring forth into effect. It is one thing to project, an- 
other to execute. A man may think for a long time what 
he is to do, and after all do nothing. Conceiving, as well 
as projecting or resolving, is what the schoolmen call an 
immanent act of the mind, which produces nothing be- 
yond itself. But painting is a transitive act, which pro- 
duces an effect distinct from the operation, and this effect 
is the picture. Let this, therefore, be always remember- 
ed, that what is commonly called the image of a thing in 
the mind is no more than the act or operation of the mind 
in conceiving it. 

That this is the common sense of men who are untu- 
tored by philosophy, appears from their language. If one 
ignorant of the language should ask, What is meant by 
conceiving a thing 9 we should very naturally answer, 
that it is having an image of it in the mind ; and perhaps 
we could not explain the word better. This shows that 
conception, and the image of a thing in the mind, are sy- 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 245 

nonymous expressions. The image in the mind, there- 
fore, is not the object of conception, nor is it any effect 
produced by conception as a cause. It is conception it- 
self. That very mode of thinking which we call concep- 
tion is by another name called an image in the mind.* 

Nothing more readily gives the conception of a thing 
than the seeing an image of it. Hence, by a figure com- 
mon in language, conception is called an image of the 
thing conceived. But, to show that it is not a real but a 
metaphorical image, it is called an image in the mind. 
We know nothing that is properly in the mind but thought; 
and when any thing else is said to be in the mind, the ex- 
pression must be figurative, and signify some kind of 
thought. 

4. Taking along with us what is said in the last article, 
to guard us against the seduction of the analogical lan- 
guage used on this subject, we may observe a very strong 
analogy, not only between conceiving and painting in gen- 
eral, but between the different kinds of our conceptions, 
and the different works of the painter. He either makes 
fancy pictures, or he copies from the painting of others, 
or he paints from the life, that is, from real objects of art 
or nature which he has seen. I think our conceptions 
admit of a division very similar. 

First, there are conceptions which may be called fancy 
pictures. They are commonly called creatures of fancy, 
or of imagination. They are not the copies of any origi- 
nal that exists, but are originals themselves. Such was 
the conception which Swift formed of the island of La- 
puta and of the country of the Lilliputians; Cervantes, of 
Don Quixote and his Squire; Harrington, of the Govern- 
ment of Oceana; and Sir Thomas More, of that of Uto- 
pia. We can give names to such creatures of imagina- 
tion, conceive them distinctly, and reason consequentially 
concerning them, though they never had an existence. 
They were conceived by their creators, and may be con- 

* We ought, however, to distinguish imagination and image, concep- 
tion and concept. Imagination and conception ought to be employed in 
speaking of the mental modification, one and indivisible, considered as 
an act ; image and concept, in speaking of it considered as a product 
or immediate object. — H. 

21 * 



246 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

ceived by others, but they never existed. We do not 
ascribe the qualities of true or false to them, because they 
are not accompanied with any belief, nor do they imply 
any affirmation or negation. 

Setting aside those creatures of imagination, there are 
other conceptions, which may be called copies, because 
they have an original or archetype to which they refer, 
and with which they are believed to agree ; and we call 
them true or false conceptions, according as they agree or 
disagree with the standard to which they are referred. 
These are of two kinds, which have different standards or 
originals. 

The first kind is analogous to pictures taken from the 
life. We have conceptions of individual things that really 
exist, such as the city of London, or the government of 
Venice. Here the things conceived are the originals; and 
our conceptions are called true when they agree with the 
thing conceived. Thus, my conception of the city of 
London is true when I conceive it to be what it really is. 

Individual things which really exist, being the creatures 
of God, (though some of them may receive their outward 
form from man,) he only who made them knows their 
whole nature; we know them but in part, and therefore 
our conceptions of them must in all cases be imperfect and 
inadequate; yet they may be true and just, as far as they 
reach. 

The second kind is analogous to the copies which the 
painter makes from pictures done before. Such, I think, 
are the conceptions we have of what the ancients called 
universals; that is, of things which belong or may belong 
to many individuals. These are kinds and species of 
things; — such as man, or elephant, which are species 
of substances; wisdom, or courage, which are species of 
qualities; equality, or similitude, which are species of re- 
lations.* 

It may be asked, From what original are these concep- 
tions formed ? and When are they said to be true or false? 

* Of all such we can have no adequate imagination. A universal, 
when represented in imagination, is no longer adequate, no longer a 
universal. We caanot have an image of " horse," but only of some 
individual of that species. We may, hoicever, have a notion or concep- 
tion of it. — H. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 247 

It appears to me that the original from which they are 
copied, that is, the thing conceived, is the conception or 
meaning which other men who understand the language 
affix to the same words. Things are parcelled into kinds 
and sorts, not by nature, but by men. The individual 
things we are connected with are so many, that to give a 
proper name to every individual would be impossible. 
We could never attain the knowledge of them that is ne- 
cessary, nor converse and reason about them, without sort- 
ing them according to their different attributes. Those 
that agree in certain attributes are thrown into one parcel, 
and have a general name given them, which belongs 
equally to every individual in that parcel. This common 
name must, therefore, signify those attributes which have 
been observed to be common to every individual in that 
parcel, and nothing else. 

That such general words may answer their intention, 
all that is necessary is that those who use them should affix 
the same meaning or notion, that is, the same conception, 
to them. The common meaning is the standard by which 
such conceptions are formed, and they are said to be true 
or false, according as they agree or disagree with it. 
Thus, my conception of felony is true and just when it 
agrees with the meaning of that word in the laws relating 
to it, and in authors who understand the law. The mean- 
ing of the word is the thing conceived; and that meaning 
is the conception affixed to it by those who best under- 
stand the language. 

If all the general words of a language had a precise 
meaning, and were perfectly understood, as mathematical 
terms are, all verbal disputes would be at an end, and 
men would never seem to differ in opinion but when they 
differed in reality; but this is far from being the case. 
The meaning of most general words is not learned like 
that of mathematical terms, by an accurate definition, but 
by the experience we happen to have, by hearing them 
used in conversation. From such experience we col- 
lect their meaning by a kind of induction; and as this 
induction is for the most part lame and imperfect, it hap- 
pens that different persons join different conceptions to 
the same general word; and though we intend to give 



248 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

them the meaning which use, the arbiter of language, has 
put upon them, this is difficult to find, and apt to be mis- 
taken, even by the candid and attentive. Hence, in in- 
numerable disputes, men do not really differ in their judg- 
ments, but in the way of expressing them. 

5. Our conception of things may be strong and lively, 
or it may be faint and languid in all degrees. These 
are qualities which properly belong to our conceptions, 
though we have no names for them but such as are ana- 
logical. Every man is conscious of such a difference in his 
conceptions, and finds his lively conceptions most agree- 
able, when the object is not of such a nature as to give 
pain. 

It seems easier to form a lively conception of objects 
that are familiar, than of those that are not. Our concep- 
tions of visible objects are commonly the most lively, 
when other circumstances are equal: hence poets not only 
delight in the description of visible objects, but find means, 
by metaphor, analogy, and allusion, to clothe every object 
they describe with visible qualities. The lively concep- 
tion of these makes the object appear, as it were, before 
our eyes. Lord Kames, in his Elements of Criticism, 
has shown of what importance it is in works of taste to 
give to objects described what he calls ideal presence. 
To produce this in the mind is indeed the capital aim of 
poetical and rhetorical description. It carries the man, as 
it were, out of himself, and makes him a spectator of the 
scene described. This ideal presence seems to me to be 
nothing else but a lively conception of the appearance 
which the object would make if really present to the eye. 
It may also be observed, that our conceptions of visible 
objects become more lively by giving them motion, and 
more still by giving them life and intellectual qualities. 
Hence, in poetry, the whole creation is animated and en- 
dowed with sense and reflection. 

Abstract and general conceptions are never lively^ 
though they may be distinct; and therefore, however ne- 
cessary in philosophy, seldom enter into poetical descrip- 
tion without being particularized or clothed in some visible 
dress.* 

* They thus cease to be aught abstract and general, and become 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 249 

6. Our conceptions of things may be clear, distinct, and 
steady; or they may be obscure, indistinct, and wavering. 
The liveliness of our conceptions gives pleasure, but it is 
their distinctness and steadiness that enable us to judge 
right, and to express our sentiments with perspicuity. 

If we inquire into the cause why, among persons speak- 
ing or writing on the same subject, we find in one so 
much darkness, in another so much perspicuity, I believe 
the chief cause will be found to be, that one had a distinct 
and steady conception of what he said or wrote, and the 
other had not: men generally find means to express dis- 
tinctly what they have conceived distinctly.* Horace 
observes, that proper words spontaneously follow dis- 
tinct conceptions, — Verbaque provisam rem non invita 
sequuntur. 

Some persons find it difficult to enter into a mathemati- 
cal demonstration. I believe we shall always find the 
reason to be, that they do not distinctly apprehend it. A 
man cannot be convinced by what he does not understand. 
On the other hand, I think a man cannot understand a 
demonstration without seeing the force of it. I speak of 
such demonstrations as those of Euclid, where every step 
is set down, and nothing left to be supplied by the reader. 
Sometimes one who has got through the first four books 
of Euclid's Elements, and sees the force of the demon- 
strations, finds difficulty in the fifth. What is the rea- 
son of this? You may find, by a little conversation with 
him, that he has not a clear and steady conception of 
ratios and of the terms relating to them. When the terms 
used in the fifth book have become familiar, and readily 
excite in his mind a clear and steady conception of their 
meaning, you may venture to affirm that he will be able to 
understand the demonstrations of that book, and to see the 
force of them. 

If this be really the case, as it seems to be, it leads us to 
think that men are very much upon a level with regard to 

merely individual representations. In precise language, they are no 
longer vorjjxara, but (^avracryLara ; no longer Begriffe, but Anschau- 
ungen ; no longer notions or concepts, but images. The word '■'■partic- 
ularized " ought to have been individualized. — H. 

* For several just and discriminating remarks on this subject, see 
Stewart's Elements, Part I. Chap. II. — Ed. 



250 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

mere judgment, when we take that faculty apart from the 
apprehension or conception of the things about which we 
judge ; so that a sound judgment seems to be the insepa- 
rable companion of a clear and steady apprehension : and 
we ought not to consider these two as talents, of which 
the one may fall to the lot of one man, and the other to 
the lot of another, but as talents which always go together. 

It may, however, be observed, that some of our con- 
ceptions may be more subservient to reasoning than others 
which are equally clear and distinct. It was before ob- 
served, that some of our conceptions are of individual 
things, others of things general and abstract. It may 
happen, that a man who has very clear conceptions of 
things individual is not so happy in those of things general 
and abstract. And this I take to be the reason why we 
find men who have good judgment in matters of common 
life, and perhaps good talents for poetical or rhetorical 
composition, who find it very difficult to enter into ab- 
stract reasoning. 

7. It has been observed by many authors, that, when 
we barely conceive any object, the ingredients of that 
conception must either be things with which we were be- 
fore acquainted by some other original power of the mind, 
or they must be parts or attributes of such things. Thus 
a man cannot conceive colors, if he never saw, nor 
sounds, if he never heard. If a man had not a con- 
science, he could no conceive what is meant by moral 
obligation, or by right and wrong in conduct. 

Fancy may combine things that never were combined 
in reality. It may enlarge or diminish, multiply or divide, 
compound and fashion the objects which nature presents ; 
but it cannot, by the utmost effort of that creative power 
which we ascribe to it, bring any one simple ingredient 
into its productions which nature has not framed, and 
brought to our knowledge by some other faculty. This 
Mr. Locke has expressed as beautifully as justly. " The 
dominion of man, in this little world of his own under- 
standing, is much the same as in the great world of visible 
things ; wherein his power, however managed by art and 
skill, reaches no farther than to compound and divide the 
materials that are made to his hand, but can do nothing 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 251 

towards making the least particle of matter, or destroying 
one atom that is already in being. The same inability 
will every one find in himself to fashion in his understand- 
ing any simple idea not received by the powers which God 
has given him." 

I think all philosophers agree in this sentiment. Mr. 
Hume, indeed, after acknowledging the truth of the prin- 
ciple in general, mentions what he thinks a single excep- 
tion to it. That a man, who had seen all the shades of a 
particular color except one, might frame in his mind a 
conception of that shade which he never saw. I think 
this is not an exception ; because a particular shade of a 
color differs not specifically, but only in degree, from 
other shades of the same color. 

It is proper to observe, that our most simple concep- 
tions are not those which nature immediately presents to 
us. When we come to years of -understanding, we have 
the power of analyzing the objects of nature, of distin- 
guishing their several attributes and relations, of conceiv- 
ing them one by one, and of giving a name to each, 
whose meaning extends only to that single attribute or re- 
lation : and thus our most simple conceptions are not 
those of any object in nature, but of some single attribute 
or relation of such objects. Thus nature presents to our 
senses bodies that are extended in three dimensions, and 
solid. By analyzing the notion we have of body from our 
senses, we form to ourselves the conceptions of exten- 
sion, solidity, space, a point, a line, a surface ; all which 
are more simple conceptions than that of a body. But 
they are the elements, as it were, of which our conception 
of a body is made up, and into which it may be analyzed. 

8. Though our conceptions must be confined to the in- 
gredients mentioned in the last article, ice are unconfined 
with regard to the arrangement of those ingredients. 
Here we may pick and choose, and form an endless vari- 
ety of combinations and compositions, which we call crea- 
tures of the imagination. These may be clearly con- 
ceived, though they never existed : and, indeed, every 
thing that is made must have been conceived before it 
was made. Eveiy work of human art, and every plan of 
conduct, whether in public or in private life, must have 



252 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION". 

been conceived before it is brought to execution. And 
we cannot avoid thinking, that the Almighty, before he 
created the universe by his power, had a distinct concep- 
tion of the whole and of every part, and saw it to be 
good, and agreeable to his intention. 

It is the business of man, as a rational creature, to em- 
ploy this unlimited power of conception for planning his 
conduct and enlarging "his knowledge. It seems to be 
peculiar to beings endowed with reason to act by a pre- 
conceived plan. Brute animals seem either to want this 
power, or to have it in a very low degree. They are 
moved by instinct, habit, appetite, or natural affection, 
according as these principles are stirred by the present 
occasion. But I see no reason to think that they can 
propose to themselves a connected plan of life, or form 
general rules of conduct. Indeed, we see that many of 
the human species, to whom God has given this power, 
make little use of it. They act without a plan, as the 
passion or appetite which is strongest at the time leads 
them. 

9. The last property I shall mention of this faculty is 
that which essentially distinguishes it from every other 
power of the mind ; and it is, that it is not employed sole- 
ly about things which have existence. I can conceive a 
winged horse or a centaur, as easily and as distinctly as I 
can conceive a man whom I have seen. Nor does this 
distinct conception incline my judgment in the least to the 
belief, that a winged horse or a centaur ever existed. 

It is not so with the other operations of our minds. 
They are employed about real existences, and carry with 
them the belief of their objects. When I feel pain, I am 
compelled to believe that the pain that I feel has a real 
existence. When I perceive any external object, my 
belief of the real existence of the object is irresistible. 
When I distinctly remember any event, though that event 
may not now exist, I can have no doubt but it did exist. 
That consciousness which we have of the operations of 
our own minds implies a belief of the real existence of 
those operations. 

Thus we see that the powers of sensation, of percep- 
tion, of memory, and of consciousness are all employed 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 253 

solely about objects that do exist, or have existed. But 
conception is often employed about objects that neither 
do, nor did, nor will exist. This is the very nature of 
this faculty, that its object, though distinctly conceived, 
may have no existence. Such an object we call a crea- 
ture of imagination ; but this creature never was created. 

That we may not impose upon ourselves in this matter, 
we must distinguish between that act or operation of the 
mind which we call conceiving an object, and the object 
which we conceive. When we conceive any thing, there 
is a real act or operation of the mind ; of this we are 
conscious, and can have no doubt of its existence : but 
every such act must have an object ; for he that con- 
ceives must conceive something. Suppose he conceives 
a centaur, he may have a distinct conception of this ob- 
ject, though no centaur ever existed. 

The philosopher will say, I cannot conceive a centaur 
without having an idea of it in my mind. But I am at a 
loss to understand what he means. He surely does not 
mean that I cannot conceive it without conceiving it. 
This would make me no wiser. What then is this idea ? 
Is it an animal, half horse and half man ? No. Then I 
am certain it is not the thing I conceive. Perhaps he 
will say, that the idea is an image of the animal, and is 
the immediate object of my conception, and that the ani- 
mal is the mediate or remote object. 

To this I answer : — First, I am certain there are not 
two objects of this conception, but one only ; which is as 
immediate an object of my conception as any can be. 
Secondly, this one object which I conceive is not the 
image of an animal, it is an animal. I know what it is to 
conceive an image of an animal, and what it is to con- 
ceive an animal ; and I can distinguish the one of these 
from the other without any danger of mistake. The thing 
I conceive is a body of a certain figure and color, having 
life and spontaneous motion. The philosopher says that 
the idea is an image of the animal, but that it has neither 
body, nor color, nor life, nor spontaneous motion. This 
I am not able to comprehend. Thirdly, I wish to know 
how this idea comes to be an object of my thought, when 
I cannot even conceive what it means ; and if 1 did con- 
22 



254 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

ceive it, this would be no evidence of its existence, any 
more than my conception of a centaur is of its existence.* 
But may not a man who conceives a centaur say, that 
he has a distinct image of it in his mind ? I think he 
may. And if he means by this way of speaking what the 
vulgar mean, who never heard of the philosophical theory 
of ideas, I find no fault with it. By a distinct image in 
the mind, the vulgar mean a distinct conception : and it is 
natural to call it so, on account of the analogy between an 
image of a thing and the conception of it. On account 
of this analogy, obvious to all mankind, this operation is 
called imagination, and an image in the mind is only a 
periphrasis for imagination. But to infer from this that 
there is really an image in the mind, distinct from the 
operation of conceiving the object, is to be misled by an 
analogical expression ; as if, from the phrases of deliber- 

* Sir W. Hamilton, in his Supplementary Dissertations, Note B, § 2, 
remarks as follows on this puzzle of Dr. Reid's : — " Reid maintains 
that in our cognitions there must be an object (real or imaginary) dis- 
tinct from the operation of the mind conversant about it; for the act is 
one thing, and the object of the act another. This is erroneous, — at 
least, it is erroneously expressed. Take an imaginary object, and 
Reid's own instance, — a centaur. Here he says, 'The sole object of 
conception (imagination) is an animal which I believe never existed.' 
It ' never existed ' ; that is, never really, never in nature, never exter- 
nally, existed. But it is ' an object of imagination.' It is not, therefore, 
a mere non-existence ; for if it had no kind of existence, it could not 
possibly be the positive object of any kind of thought. For were it an 
absolute nothing, it could have no qualities (non-entis nulla sunt attri- 
bula) ; but the object we are conscious of, as a centaur, has qualities, 

— qualities which constitute it a determinate something, and distinguish 
it from every other entity whatsoever. We must, therefore, perforce, 
allow it some sort of imaginary, ideal, representative, or (in the older 
meaning of the word) objective existence in the mind. Now this ex- 
istence can only be one or other of two sorts; for such object in the 
mind either is, or is not, a mode of mind. Of these alternatives the 
latter cannot be supposed ; for this would be an affirmation of the crud- 
est kind of non-egoistical representation, — the very hypothesis against 
which Reid so strenuously contends. The former alternative remains, 

— that it is a mode of the imagining mind ; that it is in fact the plas- 
tic act of imagination considered as representing to itself a certain pos- 
sible form, — a centaur. But then Reid's assertion, that there is al- 
ways an object distinct from the operation of the mind conversant about 
it, the act being one thing, the object of the act another, must be sur- 
rendered. For the object and the act are here only one and the same 
thing in two several relations. Reid's error consists in mistaking a 
logical for a metaphysical difference, — a distinction of relation for a 
distinction of entity. Or is the error only from the vagueness and am- 
biguity of expression ? " — Ed. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 255 

ating and balancing things in the mind, we should infer 
that there is really a balance existing in the mind for 
weighing motives and arguments. 

III. Distinction between Conception and Imagination.'] 
I take imagination, in its most proper sense, to signify a 
lively conception of objects of sight. This is a talent of 
importance to poets and orators, and deserves a proper 
name, on account of its connection with those arts. Ac- 
cording to this strict meaning of the word, imagination is 
distinguished from conception as a part from the whole. 
We conceive the objects of the other senses, but it is not 
so proper to say that we imagine them. We conceive 
judgment, reasoning, propositions, and arguments ; but 
it is rather improper to say that we imagine these things. 

This distinction between imagination and conception 
may be illustrated by an example, which Descartes uses 
to illustrate the distinction between imagination and pure 
intellection. We can imagine a triangle or a square so 
clearly as to distinguish them from every other figure. 
But we cannot imagine a figure of a thousand equal sides 
and angles so clearly. The best eye, by looking at it, 
could not distinguish it from every figure of more or fewer 
sides. And that conception of its appearance to the eye, 
which we properly call imagination, cannot be more dis- 
tinct than the appearance itself; yet we can conceive a 
figure of a thousand sides, and even can demonstrate the 
properties which distinguish it from all figures of more or 
fewer sides. It is not by the eye, but by a superior 
faculty, that we form the notion of a great number, such 
as a thousand : and a distinct notion of this number of 
sides not being to be got by the eye, it is not imagined but 
it is distinctly conceived, and easily distinguished from 
every other number.* 

* It is to be regretted that Reid did not more fully develop the dis- 
tinction between imagination and conception, on which he here and 
elsewhere inadequately touches. Imagination is not, though in con- 
formity to the etymology of the term, to be limited to the representation 
of visible objects. Neither ought the term conceive to be used in the 
extensive sense of understand. — H. 

On the use of these terms Mr. Stewart expresses himself as follows : 
— " Dr. Reid substitutes the word conception instead of the simple ap- 



256 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

IV. fVliether the Conceiv ability of Things is a Test 
of their Possibility.] Writers on logic affirm, that our 
conception of things is a test of their possibility ; so that 

prehension of the schools, and employs it in the same extensive signifi- 
cation. I think it may contribute to make our ideas more distinct, to 
restrict its meaning ; and for such a restriction we have the authority 
of philosophers in a case perfectly analogous. In ordinary language, 
we apply the same word perception to the knowledge which we 
have by our senses of external objects, and to our knowledge of 
speculative truth ; and yet an author would be justly censured, who 
should treat of these two operations of mind under the same article of 
perception. I apprehend there is as wide a difference between the 
conception of a truth and the conception of an absent object of sense, 
as between the perception of a tree and the perception of a mathemati- 
cal theorem. I have therefore taken the liberty to distinguish also the 
two former operations of the mind; and under the article of concep- 
tion shall confine myself to that faculty whose province it is to enable 
us to form a notion of our past sensations, or of the objects of sense that 
we have formerly perceived. 

" The business of conception, according to the account I have given 
of it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt or 
perceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modifying our concep- 
tions, by combining the parts of different ones together, so as to form new 
icholes of our own creation. I shall employ the word imagination to ex- 
press this power ; and I apprehend that this is the proper sense of the 
word, if imagination be the power which gives birth to the productions 
of the poet and the painter." — Elements, Part I. Chap. III. 

He afterwards shows that the province of imagination is not limited 
to the perceptions of sight, or to the sensible world : — f All the objects 
of human knowledge supply materials to her forming hand ; diversify- 
ing infinitely the works she produces, while the mode of her operation 
remains essentially the same. As it is the same power of reasoning 
which enables us to carry on our investigations with respect to individ- 
ual objects, and with respect to classes or genera, so it was by the same 
processes of analysis and combination that the genius of Milton produced 
the garden of Eden, that of Harrington the commonwealth of Oceana, 
and that of Shakspeare the characters of Hamlet and FalstafF." — Hid., 
Chap. VII. See, also, Rauch's Psychology, Part II. Sect. I. Chap. II. 

Mr. Stewart has not been generally followed in the restricted sense 
which he gives to the term conception. Dr. Whewell observes : — " It 
has been a matter of long and intricate discussion what is the object, or 
act, of thought which is denoted by general terms. Some have held, that 
we have in our minds a real idea, something of the nature of an image, 
which we signify by such terms ; that we have, in this sense, a general 
idea of an angle, a polygon, a central force, a crystal, a rose. Others 
have held, that in using such terms there is merely an act of the mind 
marked by a name, — an act by which the mind collects and connects 
many impressions. These two views (that of the Realists and that of 
the JYominalists) have prevailed, with various fluctuations and modifi- 
cations, through all ages of philosophy. But that either opinion, in its 
extreme form, involves us in insuperable difficulties, is easily seen ; and 
of late both parties appear to be willing to adopt the word conception as 
expressing that which by such terms we intend." — Philosophy of the 
Inductive Sciences, Part I. Book I. Chap. V. — Ed. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 257 

what we can distinctly conceive, we may conclude to be 
possible, while of what is impossible we can have no con- 
ception. 

This opinion has been held by philosophers for more 
than a hundred years, without contradiction or dissent, as 
far as I know ; and if it be an error, it may be of some 
use to inquire into its origin, and the causes that it has 
been so generally received as a maxim whose truth could 
not be brought into doubt. 

One of the fruitless questions agitated among the scho- 
lastic philosophers in the dark ages* was, What is the 
criterion of truth ? — as if men could have any other way 
to distinguish truth from error but by the right use of that 
power of judging which God has given them. 

Descartes endeavoured to put an end to this controver- 
sy, by making it a fundamental principle in his system, that 
whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true. To 
understand this principle of Descartes, it must be observed 
that he gave the name of perception to every power of the 
human understanding; and in explaining this very maxim, 
he tells us that sense, imagination, and pure intellection 
are only different modes of perceiving, and so the maxim 
was understood by all his followers. The learned Dr. 
Cudworth seems also to have adopted this principle. 
"The criterion of true knowledge," says he, "is only 
to be looked for in our knowledge and conceptions them- 
selves: for the entity of all theoretical truth is nothing else 
but clear intelligibility, and whatever is clearly conceived 
is an entity and a truth: but that which is false, Divine 
power itself cannot make it to be clearly and distinctly 
understood. A falsehood can never be clearly conceived 
or apprehended to be true." — Eternal and Immutable 
Morality, p. 172. 

This Cartesian maxim seems to me to have led the way 
to that now under consideration, which seems to have been 
adopted as the proper correction of the former. When 
the authority of Descartes declined, men began to see that 
we may clearly and distinctly conceive what is not true, 

* This was more a question with the Greek philosophers than with 
the schoolmen. — H. 

22* 



258 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

but thought that our conception, though not in all cases a 
test of truth, might be a test of possibility. This, indeed, 
seems to be a necessary consequence of the received doc- 
trine of ideas; it being evident that there can be no dis- 
tinct image, either in the mind or anywhere else, of that 
which is impossible. The ambiguity of the word conceive, 
as when we say ice cannot conceive such a thing, meaning 
that we think it impossible, might likewise contribute to 
the reception of this doctrine. 

But whatever was the origin of this opinion, it seems to 
prevail universally, and to be received as a maxim. 

" The bare having an idea of the proposition proves the 
thing not to be impossible; for of an impossible proposi- 
tion there can be no idea." — Dr. Samuel Clarke. 

" Of that which neither does nor can exist we can have 
no idea." — Lord Bolingbroke. 

" The measure of impossibility to us is inconceivable- 
ness, that of which we can have no idea but that, reflect- 
ing upon it, it appears to be nothing, we pronounce to be 
impossible." — Abernethy. 

" In every idea is implied the possibility of the exist- 
ence of its object, nothing being clearer than that there 
can be no idea of an impossibility, or conception of what 
cannot exist." — Dr. Price. 

" Impossible est cujus nullam notionem formare possu- 
mus; possibile e contra, cui aliqua respondet notio." — 
Wolfii Onlologia.* 

" It is an established maxim in metaphysics, that what- 
ever the mind conceives includes the idea of possible ex- 

* These are not exactly Wolff's expressions. See Ontologia, § § 102, 
103 ; Philosophia Rationalis, § § 522, 528. The same doctrine is held 
by Tschirnhausen and others. In so far, however, as it is said that in- 
conceivability is the criterion of impossibility, it is manifestly erroneous. 
Of many contradictories we are able to conceive neither ; but, by the 
law of thought called that of exclvded middle, one of two contradictories 
must be admitted, — must be true. For example, we can neither con- 
ceive, on the one hand, an ultimate minimum of space or of time ; nor 
can we, on the other, conceive their infinite divisibility. In like man- 
ner, we cannot conceive the absolute commencement of time or the 
utmost limit of space, and are yet equally unable to conceive them 
without any commencement or limit. The absurdity that would result 
from the assertion, that all that is inconceivable is impossible, is thus 
obvious; and so far Reid's criticism is just, though not new. — H. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 259 

istence, or, in other words, that nothing we imagine is ab- 
solutely impossible." — D.Hume. 

It were easy to muster up many other respectable au- 
thorities for this maxim, and I have never found one that 
called it in question. If the maxim be true in the extent 
which the famous Wolff has given it, in the passage above 
quoted, we shall have a short road to the determination of 
every question about the possibility or impossibility of 
things. We need only look into our own breast, and 
that, like the Urim and Thummim, will give an infallible 
answer. If we can conceive the thing, it is possible; if 
not, it is impossible. And surely every man may know 
whether he can conceive what is affirmed or not. 

Other philosophers have been satisfied with one half of 
the maxim of Wolff. They say, that whatever we can 
conceive is possible; but they do not say, that whatever 
we cannot conceive is impossible. I cannot help thinking 
even this to be a mistake, which philosophers have been 
unwarily led into, from the causes before mentioned. My 
reasons are these :- — 

1. Whatever is said to be possible or impossible is ex- 
pressed by a proposition. Now, what is it to conceive a 
proposition? I think it is no more than to understand dis- 
tinctly its meaning.* I know no more that can be meant 



* In this sense of the word conception, I make bold to say that there is 
no philosopher who ever held an opinion different from that of our au- 
thor. The whole dispute arises from Reid's giving a wider significa- 
tion to this term than that which it has generally received. In his 
view, it has two meanings; in that of the philosophers whom he attacks, 
it has only one. To illustrate this, take the proposition, Jl circle is a 
square. Here we easily understand the meaning of the affirmation, be- 
cause what is necessary to an act of judgment is merely that the subject 
and predicate should be brought into a unity of relation. A judgment 
is therefore possible, even where the two terms are contradictory. But 
the philosophers never expressed by the term conception this under- 
standing of the purport of a proposition. What they meant by concep- 
tion was not the unity of relation, but the unity of representation ; and 
this unity of representation they made the criterion of logical possibil- 
ity. To take the example already given, they did not say a circle may 
possibly be square, because we can understand the meaning of the 
proposition, A circle is square; but, on the contrary, they said it is im- 
possible that a circle can be square, and the proposition affirming this is 
necessarily false, because we cannot, in consciousness, bring to a unity 
of representation the repugnant notions, circle and square, — that is, 
conceive the notion of a square circle. Reid's mistake in this matter is 
so palpable, that it is not more surprising that he should have committed 



260 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

by simple apprehension or conception, when applied to a 
proposition. The axiom, therefore, amounts to this : 
every proposition, of which you understand the meaning 
distinctly, is possible. I am persuaded that I understand 
as distinctly the meaning of this proposition, — Jlny two 
sides of a triangle are together equal to the third, — as of 
thrs, — Jlny two sides of a triangle are together greater 
than the third; yet the first of these is impossible. 

Perhaps it will be said, that, though you understand the 
meaning of the impossible proposition, you cannot sup- 
pose or conceive it to be true. 

Here we are to examine the meaning of the phrases of 
supposing and conceiving a proposition to be true. I can 
certainly suppose it to be true, because I can draw conse- 
quences from it which I find to be impossible, as well as 
the proposition itself. If by conceiving it to be true be 
meant giving some degree of assent to it, however small, 
this I confess I cannot do. But will it be said, that 
every proposition to which I can give any degree of as- 
sent is possible? This contradicts experience, and there- 
fore the maxim cannot be true in this sense. Some- 
times, when we say that we cannot conceive a thing to be 
true, we mean by that expression, that we judge it to be 
impossible. In this sense, I cannot, indeed, conceive it to 
be true that two sides of a triangle are equal to the third. 
I judge it to be impossible. If, then, we understand in 
this sense that maxim, that nothing we can conceive is 
impossible, the meaning will be, that nothing is impossible 
which we judge to be possible. But does it not often 
happen, that what one man judges to be possible, another 
man judges to be impossible? The maxim, therefore, is 
not true in this sense. 

I am not able to find any other meaning of conceiving a 
proposition, or of conceiving it to be true, besides these I 
have mentioned. I know nothing that can be meant by 
having the idea of a proposition, but either the under- 
standing its meaning, or the judging of its truth. I can 
understand a proposition that is false or impossible, as 

it, than that so many should not only have followed him in the opinion, 
but even have lauded it as the refutation of an important error. — H. 



ITS CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES. 261 

well as one that is true or possible; and I find that men 
have contradictory judgments about what is possible or 
impossible, as well as about other things. In what sense, 
then, can it be said, that the having an idea of a proposi- 
tion gives certain evidence that it is possible? 

If it be said, that the idea of a proposition is an image 
of it in the mind, I think, indeed, there cannot be a distinct 
image, either in the mind or elsewhere, of that which is 
impossible; but what is meant by the image of a proposi- 
tion I am not able to comprehend, and I shall be glad to 
be informed. 

2. Every proposition that is necessarily true stands op- 
posed to a contradictory proposition that is impossible; 
and he that conceives one conceives both : thus a man who 
believes that two and three necessarily make five, must 
believe it to be impossible that two and three should not 
make five. He conceives both propositions when he be- 
lieves one. Every proposition carries its contradictory 
in its bosom, and both are conceived at the same time. 
" It is confessed," says Mr. Hume, " that, in all cases 
where we dissent from any person, we conceive both 
sides of the question, but we can believe only one." 
From this it certainly follows, that when we dissent from 
any person about a necessary proposition, we conceive 
one that is impossible; yet I know no philosopher who 
has made so much use of the maxim, that whatever we 
conceive is possible, as Mr. Hume. A great part of 
his peculiar tenets are built upon it; and if it is true, they 
must be true. But he did not perceive that in the passage 
now quoted, the truth of which is evident, he contradicts 
it himself. 

3. Mathematicians have, in many cases, proved some 
things to be possible, and others to be impossible, which, 
without demonstration, would not have been believed; yet 
I have never found that any mathematician has attempted 
to prove a thing to be possible because it can be conceiv- 
ed, or impossible because it cannot be conceived.* Why 
is not this maxim applied to determine whether it is pos- 

* All geometry is, in fact, founded on our intuitions of space ; that is, 
in common language, on our conceptions of space and its relations. — H. 



262 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

sible to square the circle? — a point about which very emi- 
nent mathematicians have differed. It is easy to conceive, 
that, in the infinite series of numbers and intermediate frac- 
tions, some one number, integral or fractional, may bear 
the same ratio to another as the side of a square bears to 
its diagonal ; * yet, however conceivable this may be, it 
may be demonstrated to be impossible. 

4. Mathematicians often require us to conceive things 
that are impossible, in order to prove them to be so. 
This is the case in all their demonstrations, ad absurdum. 
Conceive, says Euclid, a right line drawn from one point 
of the circumference of a circle to another to fall without 
the circle ; f I conceive this, I reason from it, until I come 
to a consequence that is manifestly absurd ; and from 
thence conclude that the thing which I conceived is im- 
possible. 

Having said so much to show that our power of con- 
ceiving a proposition is no criterion of its possibility or 
impossibility, I shall add a few observations on the extent 
of our knowledge of this kind. 

1 . There are many propositions which, by the faculties 
God has given us, we judge to be necessary as well as 
true. All mathematical propositions are of this kind, 
and many others. The contradictories of such proposi- 
tions must be impossible. Our knowledge, therefore, of 
what is impossible must at least be as extensive as our 
knowledge of necessary truth. 

2. By our senses, by memory, by testimony, and by 
other means, we know many things to be true which do 
not appear to be necessary. But whatever is true is pos- 
sible. Our knowledge, therefore, of what is possible must 
at least extend as far as our k'^wledge of truth. 

3. If a man pretends to determine the possibility or im- 
possibility of things beyond these limits, let him bring 
proof. I do not say that no such proof can be brought. 
It has been brought in many cases, particularly in mathe- 

* We are able to conceive nothing infinite; and we may suppose, but 
we cannot conceive, represent, or imagine, the possibility in question. 
— H. 

t Euclid does not require us to conceive or imagine any such impossi- 
bility. The proposition to which Reid must refer is the second of the 
third book of the Elements. — H. 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 263 

matics. But I say, that his being able to conceive a 
thing is no proof that it is possible.* Mathematics af- 
ford many instances of impossibilities in the nature of 
things, which no man would have believed if they had not 
been strictly demonstrated. Perhaps, if we were able to 
reason demonstratively in other subjects to as great ex- 
tent as in mathematics, we might find many things to be 
impossible which we conclude without hesitation to be 
possible. 

It is possible, you say, that God might have made a 
universe of sensible and rational creatures, into which 
neither natural nor moral evil should ever enter. It may 
be so for what I know: but how do you know that it is 
possible? That you can conceive it, I grant; but this is 
no proof. I cannot admit as an argument, or even as a 
pressing difficulty, what is grounded on the supposition 
that such a thing is possible, when there is no good evi- 
dence that it is possible, and, for any thing we know, it 
may in the nature of things be impossible. 



CHAPTER II 



OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND; OR MEN- 
TAL ASSOCIATION. 

I. Preliminary Observations. ] Every man is con- 
scious of a succession of thoughts which pass in his mind 
while he is awake, even when they are not excited by ex- 
ternal objects. f 

* Not, certainly, that it is really possible, but that it is problematically 
possible ; that is, involves no contradiction, violates no law of thought. 
This latter is that possibility alone in question. — H. 

t Mr. Mill, who follows Hume in the distinction which he makes be- 
tween impressions and ideas, begins his chapter on this subject thus : — 
" Thought succeeds thought, idea follows idea, incessantly. If our 
senses are awake, we are continually receiving sensations of the eye, 
the ear, the touch, and so forth ; but not sensations alone. After sensa- 
tions, ideas are perpetually excited of sensations formerly received ; after 
those ideas, other ideas : and during the whole of our lives a series of 
those two states of consciousness, called sensations and ideas, is con- 



264 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

This continued succession of thought has, by modern 
philosophers, been called the imagination.* I think it 
was formerly called the fancy, or the phantasy. f If the 
old name be laid aside, it were to be wished that it had 
got a name less ambiguous than that of imagination, a name 
which had two or three meanings besides. 

It is often called the train of ideas. This may lead 
one to think that it is a train of bare conceptions; but this 
would surely be a mistake. It is made up of many other 
operations of mind, as well as of conceptions or ideas. 
Memory, judgment, reasoning, passions, affections, and 
purposes, — in a word, every operation of the mind, ex- 
cepting those of sense, is exerted occasionally in this train 
of thought, and has its share as an ingredient: so that we 
must take the word idea in a very extensive sense, if we 
make the train of our thoughts to be only a train of ideas.J 

To pass from the name and consider the thing, we may 
observe that the trains of thought in the mind are of two 
kinds: they are either such as flow spontaneously, like 
water from a fountain, without any exertion of a governing 
principle to arrange them; or they are regulated and di- 
rected by an active effort of the mind, with some view 
and intention. 

Before we consider these in their order, it is proper to 
premise, that these two kinds, however distinct in their 

stantly going on. I see a horse: that is a sensation. Immediately I 
think of his master : that is an idea. The idea of his master makes me 
think of his office; he is a minister of state : that is another idea. The 
idea of a minister of state makes me think of public affairs; and I am 
led into a train of political ideas; when I am summoned to dinner. 
This is a new sensation, followed by the idea of dinner and of the com- 
pany with whom I am to partake it. The sight of the company and of 
the food are other sensations ; these suggest ideas without end ; other 
sensations perpetually intervene, suggesting other ideas : and so the 
process goes on." Analysis, Chap. III. — Ed. 

* By some only, and that improperly. — H. 

f The Latin imaginatio, with its modifications in the vulgar lan- 
guages, was employed both in ancient and modern times to express what 
the Greeks denominated (pavraaia. Phantasy, of which pkansy or 
fancy is a corruption, and now employed in a more limited sense, was 
a common name for imagination with the old English writers. — H. 

X Stewart and Mill, after Hartley, have proposed to call this succes- 
sion of thought, association of ideas, and this is now the common name ; 
Dr. Brown would substitute suggestion for association; Sir W. Hamil- 
ton calls it mental suggestion or association. — Ed. 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 265 

nature, are for the most part mixed, in persons awake and 
come to years of understanding. On the one hand, we 
are rarely so vacant of all project and design as to let our 
thoughts take their own course without the least check or 
direction ; or if, at any time, we should be in this state, 
some object will present itself which is too interesting not 
to engage the attention and rouse the active or contem- 
plative powers that were at rest. On the other hand, when 
a man is giving the most intense application to any specu- 
lation, or to any scheme of conduct, when he wills to ex- 
clude every thought that is foreign to his present purpose, 
such thoughts will often impertinently intrude upon him, in 
spite of his endeavours to the contrary, and occupy, by a 
kind of violence, some part of the time destined to anoth- 
er purpose. One man may have the command of his 
thoughts more than another man, and the same man more 
at one time than at another ; but I apprehend, in the best- 
trained mind the thoughts will sometimes be restive, some- 
times capricious and self-willed, when we wish to have 
them most under command. 

It has been observed very justly, that we must not 
ascribe to the mind the power of calling up any thought 
at pleasure, because such a call or volition supposes 
that thought to be already in the mind; for otherwise, 
how should it be the object of volition. As this must 
be granted on the one hand, so it is no less certain on the 
other, that a man has a considerable power in regulating 
and disposing his own thoughts. Of this every man is 
conscious, and I can no more doubt of it than I can 
doubt whether I think at all. 

We seem to treat the thoughts that present themselves 
to the fancy, as a great man treats those that attend his 
levee. They are all ambitious of his attention ; he goes 
round the circle, bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon 
another, asks a short question of a third, while a fourth is 
honored with a particular conference, and the greater 
part have no particular mark of attention, but go as they 
came. It is true, he can give no mark of his attention to 
those who were not there, but he has a sufficient number 
for making a choice and distinction. In like manner, a 
number of thoughts present themselves to the fancy spon- 
23 



266 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

taneously; but if we pay no attention to them, nor hold 
any conference with them, they pass with the crowd, and 
are immediately forgotten as if they had never appeared. 
But those to which we think proper to pay attention may 
be stopped, examined, and arranged, for any particular 
purpose we have in view. 

It may likewise be observed, that a train of thought, 
which was at first composed by application and judgment, 
when it has been often repeated and becomes familiar, 
will present itself spontaneously. Thus, when a man has 
composed an air in music, so as to please his own ear, 
after he has played or sung it often, the notes will range 
themselves in just order, and it requires no effort to regu- 
late their succession. 

Thus we see that the fancy is made up of trains of 
thinking, some of which are spontaneous, others studied 
and regulated, and the greater part are mixed of both 
kinds, and take their denomination from that which is most 
prevalent; and that a train of thought, which at first was 
studied and composed, may by habit present itself sponta- 
neously. 

Having premised these things, let us return to those 
trains of thought which are spontaneous, which must be 
first in the order of nature. 

II. Spontaneous Trains of Thought.'] When the 
work of the day is over, and a man lies down to relax his 
body and mind, he cannot cease from thinking, though he 
desires it. Something occurs to his fancy; that is follow- 
ed by another thing, and so his thoughts are carried on 
from one object to another until sleep closes the scene. 

In this operation* of the mind, it is not one faculty only 
that is employed; there are many that join together in 
its production. Sometimes the transactions of the day 
are brought upon the stage and acted over again, as it 
were, upon this theatre of the imagination. In this case, 
memory surely acts the most considerable part, since the 
scenes exhibited are not fictions, but realities, which we 
remember ; yet in this case the memory does not act 

* The word process might be here preferable. Operation would denote 
that the mind is active in associating the train of thought. — H. 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 267 

alone, — other powers are employed, and attend upon 
their proper objects. The transactions remembered will 
be more or less interesting ; and we cannot then review 
our own conduct, nor that of others, without passing some 
judgment upon it. This we approve, that we disapprove. 
This elevates, that humbles and depresses us. Persons 
that are not absolutely indifferent to us can hardly ap- 
pear, even to the imagination, without some friendly or 
unfriendly emotion. We judge and reason about things, 
as well as persons, in such reveries. We remember what 
a man said and did ; from this we pass to his designs and 
to his general character, and frame some hypothesis to 
mSke the whole consistent. Such trains of thought we 
may call historical. 

There are others which we may call romantic, in 
which the plot is formed by the creative power of fancy, 
without any regard to what did or will happen. In these, 
also, the powers of judgment, taste, moral sentiment, as 
well as the passions and affections, come in and take a 
share in the execution. In these scenes, the man himself 
commonly acts a very distinguished part, and seldom does 
any thing which he cannot approve. Here the miser will 
be generous, the coward brave, and the knave honest. 
Mr. Addison, in the Spectator, calls this play of the 
fancy castle-building. 

The young politician, who has turned his thoughts to 
the affairs of government, becomes in his imagination a 
minister of state. He examines every spring and wheel 
of the machine of government with the nicest eye and the 
most exact judgment. He finds a proper remedy for 
every disorder of the commonwealth, quickens trade and 
manufactures by salutary laws, encourages arts and sci- 
ences, and makes the nation happy at home and respected 
abroad. He feels the reward of his good administration 
in that self-approbation which attends it, and is happy in 
acquiring, by his wise and patriotic conduct, the blessings 
of the present age and the praises of those that are to 
come. 

It is probable that, upon the stage of imagination, 
more great exploits have been performed in every age, 
than have been upon the stage of life from the beginning 



268 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

of the world. An innate desire of self-approbation is un- 
doubtedly a part of the human constitution. It is a pow- 
erful spur to worthy conduct, and is intended as such by 
the Author of our being. A man cannot be easy or happy 
unless this desire be in some measure gratified. While 
he conceives himself worthless and base, he can relish no 
enjoyment. The humiliating, mortifying sentiment must 
be removed, and this natural desire of self-approbation will 
either produce a noble effort to acquire real worth, which 
is its proper direction, or it will lead into some of those 
arts of self-deceit which create a false opinion of worth. 

A castle-builder, in the fictitious scenes of his fancy, 
will figure, not according to his real character, but ac- 
cording to the highest opinion he has been able to form of 
himself, and perhaps far be} r ond that opinion. For in 
those imaginary conflicts the passions easily yield to rea- 
son, and a man exerts the noblest efforts of virtue and 
magnanimity with the same ease as, in his dreams, he flies 
through the air, or plunges to the bottom of the ocean. 

The romantic scenes of fancy are most commonly the 
occupation of young minds, not yet so deeply engaged in 
life as to have their thoughts taken up by its real cares and 
business. Those active powers of the mind which are 
most luxuriant by constitution, or have been most cherish- 
ed by education, impatient to exert themselves, hurry the 
thought into scenes that give tbem play; and the boy com- 
mences in imagination, according to the bent of his mind, 
a general or a statesman, a poet or an orator. 

In persons come to maturity there is, even in these 
spontaneous sallies of fancy, some arrangement of thought; 
and I conceive that it will be readily allowed, that in those 
who have the greatest stock of knowledge and the best nat- 
ural parts, even the spontaneous movements of fancy will 
be the most regular and connected. They have an order, 
connection, and unity, by which they are no less distin- 
guished from the dreams of one asleep, or the ravings of one 
delirious, on the one hand, than from the finished produc- 
tions of art, on the other. 

III. How ivhat is regular in these Trains is to be ex- 
plained.'] How is this regular arrangement brought about? 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 269 

It has all the marks of judgment and reason, yet it seems 
to go before judgment, and to spring forth spontaneously. 

Shall we believe, with Leibnitz, that the mind was orig- 
inally formed like a watch wound up, and that all its 
thoughts, purposes, passions, and actions are effected by 
the gradual evolution of the original spring of the machine, 
and succeed each other in order as necessarily as the mo- 
tions and pulsations of a watch. If a child of three or 
four years were put to account for the phenomena of a 
watch, he would conceive that there is a little man within 
the watch, or some other little animal, that beats continu- 
ally and produces the motion. Whether the hypothesis 
of this young philosopher in turning the watch-spring into 
a man, or that of the German philosopher in turning a 
man into a watch-spring, be the most rational, seems hard 
to determine.* 

To account for the regularity of our thoughts from mo- 
tions of animal spirits, vibrations of nerves, attractions of 
ideas, or from any other unthinking cause, whether me- 
chanical or contingent, seems equally irrational. 

If we be not able to distinguish the strongest marks of 
thought and design from the effects of mechanism or con- 
tingency, the consequence will be very melancholy; for it 
must necessarily follow, that we have no evidence of 
thought in any of our fellow-men, — nay, that we have no 
evidence of thought or design in the structure and govern- 
ment of the universe. If a good period or sentence was 
ever produced without having had any judgment previous- 
ly employed about it, why not an Iliad or iEneid ? They 
differ only in less and more; and we should do injustice to 
the philosopher of Laputa in laughing at his project of 
making poems by the turning of a wheel, if a concurrence 
of unthinking causes may produce a rational train of 
thought. 

It is, therefore, in itself highly probable, to say no 
more, that whatsoever is regular and rational in a train of 
thought which presents itself spontaneously to a man's 
fancy, without any study, is a copy of what had been before 

* The theory of our mental associations owes much to the philoso- 
phers of the Leibnitzian school. — H. 

23* 



270 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

composed by his own rational powers, or those of some other 
person. 

We certainly judge so in similar cases. Thus, in a 
book I find a train of thinking, which has the marks of 
knowledge and judgment. I ask how it was produced ? 
It is printed in a book. This does not satisfy me, be- 
cause the book has no knowledge nor reason. I am told 
that a printer printed it, and a compositor set the types. 
Neither does this satisfy me. These causes perhaps 
knew very little of the subject. There must be a prior 
cause of the composition. It was printed from a manu- 
script. True. But the manuscript is as ignorant as the 
printed book. The manuscript was written or dictated 
by a man of knowledge and judgment. This, and this 
only, will satisfy a man of common understanding ; and it 
appears to him extremely ridiculous to believe that such a 
train of thinking could originally be produced by any 
cause that neither reasons nor thinks. 

Whether such a train of thinking be printed in a book, 
or printed, so to speak, in his mind, and issue spontane- 
ously from his fancy, it must have been composed with 
judgment by himself or by some other rational being. 

This, I think, will be confirmed by tracing the progress 
of the human fancy as far back as we are able. 

Man has undoubtedly a power (whether we call it taste 
or judgment is not of any consequence in the present ar- 
gument) whereby he distinguishes between a composition 
and a heap of materials ; between a house, for instance, 
and a heap of stones; between a sentence and a heap of 
words; between a picture and a heap of colors. It does 
not appear to me, that children have any regular trains of 
thought until this power begins to operate. Those who 
are born such idiots as never to show any signs of this 
power, show as little any signs of regularity of thought. 
It seems, therefore, that this power is connected with all 
regular trains of thought, and may be the cause of them. 

Such trains of thought discover themselves in children 
about two years of age. They can then give attention to 
the operations of older children in making their little 
houses and ships, and other such things, in imitation of the 
works of men. They are then capable of understanding 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 271 

a little of language, which shows both a regular train of 
thinking and some degree of abstraction. I think we may 
perceive a distinction between the faculties of children of 
two or three years of age, and those of the most sagacious 
brutes. They can then perceive design and regularity in 
the works of others, especially of older children ; their 
little minds are fired with the discovery; they are eager to 
imitate them, and never at rest till they can exhibit some- 
thing of the same kind. 

As children grow up, they are delighted with tales, with 
childish games, with designs and stratagems. Every 
thing of this kind stores the fancy with a new regular train 
of thought, which becomes familiar by repetition, so that 
one part draws the whole after it in the imagination. The 
imagination of a child, like the hand of a painter, is long 
employed in copying the works of others before it at- 
tempts any invention of its own. 

The power of invention is not yet brought forth, but it 
is coming forward, and, like the bud of a tree, is ready to 
burst its integuments, when some accident aids its eruption. 
There is no power of the understanding that gives so 
much pleasure to the owner as that of invention, whether 
it be employed in mechanics, in science, in the conduct 
of life, in poetry, in wit, or in the fine arts. I am aware 
that the power of invention is distributed among men more 
unequally than almost any other. When it is able to pro- 
duce any thing that is interesting to mankind, we call it 
genius, — a talent which is the lot of very few. But there 
is perhaps a lower kind, or lower degree of invention, that 
is more common. However this may be, it must be al- 
lowed that the power of invention, in those who have it, 
will produce many new regular trains of thought, and 
these, being expressed in works of art, in writing, or in 
discourse, will be copied by others. 

Thus, I conceive the minds of children, as soon as they 
have judgment to distinguish what is regular, orderly, and 
connected, from a mere medley of thought, are furnished 
with regular trains of thinking by these means. And the 
condition of man requires a longer infancy and youth than 
that of other animals; for this reason, among others, that 
almost every station in civil society requires a multitude of 



272 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

regular trains of thought to be not only acquired, but to be 
made so familiar, by frequent repetition, as to present 
themselves spontaneously when there is occasion for 
them. The imagination even of men of good parts never 
serves them readily but in things wherein it has been much 
exercised. A minister of state holds a conference with a 
foreign ambassador with no greater emotion than a pro- 
fessor in a college prelects to his audience. The imagi- 
nation of each presents to him what the occasion requires 
to be said, and how. Let them change places, and both 
would find themselves at a loss. 

The habits which the human mind is capable of acquir- 
ing by exercise are wonderful in many instances; in none 
more wonderful than in that versatility of imagination which 
a well-bred man acquires by being much exercised in the 
various scenes of life. In the morning he visits a friend 
in affliction. Here his imagination brings forth from its 
store every topic of consolation, every thing that is agree- 
able to the laws of friendship and sympathy, and nothing 
that is not so. From thence he drives to the minister's 
levee, where imagination readily suggests what is proper 
to be said or replied to every man, and in what manner, 
according to the degree of acquaintance or familiarity, of 
rank or dependence, of opposition or concurrence of in- 
terests, of confidence or distrust, that is between them. 
Nor does all this employment hinder him from carrying on 
some design with much artifice, and endeavouring to pene- 
trate into the views of others through the closest disguises. 
From the levee he goes to the House of Commons, and 
speaks upon the affairs of the nation ; from thence to a 
ball or assembly, and entertains the ladies. 

When such habits are acquired and perfected, they are 
exercised without any laborious effort, — like the habit of 
playing upon an instrument of music. There are innu- 
merable motions of the fingers upon the stops or keys, 
which must be directed in one particular train or succes- 
sion. There is only one arrangement of those motions 
that is right, while there are ten thousand that are wrong 
and would spoil the music. The musician thinks not in 
the least of the arrangement of those motions ; he has a 
distinct idea of the tune, and wills to play it. The mo- 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 273 

tions of the fingers arrange themselves so as to answer his 
intention. 

In like manner, when a man speaks upon a subject with 
which he is acquainted, there is a certain arrangement of 
his thoughts and words necessary to make his discourse 
sensible, pertinent, and grammatical. In every sentence 
there are more rules of grammar, logic, and rhetoric that 
may be transgressed, than there are words and letters. 
He speaks without thinking of any of those rules, and yet 
observes them all, as if they were all in his eye. This is 
a habit so similar to that of a player on an instrument, that 
I think both must be got in the same way, that is, by 
much practice and the. power of habit. When a man 
speaks well and methodically upon a subject without study, 
and with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for grant- 
ed that his thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a 
mould in his mind, which has been formed by much prac- 
tice, or by study, for this very subject, or for some other 
so similar and analogous, that his discourse falls into this 
mould with ease, and takes its form from it. 

Hitherto we have considered the operations of fancy 
that are either spontaneous, or at least require no laborious 
effort to guide and direct them, and have endeavoured to 
account for that degree of regularity and arrangement 
which is found even in them. (1.) The natural powers of 
judgment and invention, (2.) the pleasure that always at- 
tends the exercise of those powers, (3.) the means we 
have of improving them by imitation of others, and (4.) 
the effect of practice and habits, seem to me sufficiently 
to account for this phenomenon, without supposing any 
unaccountable attractions of ideas by which they arrange 
themselves. 

IV. Trains of Thought directed and regulated by the 
Will.] But we are able to direct our thoughts in a cer- 
tain course so as to perform a destined task. 

Every work of art has its model framed in the imagina- 
tion. Here the Iliad of Homer, the Republic of Plato, 
the Principia of Newton, were fabricated. Shall we be- 
lieve that those works took the form in which they now 
appear of themselves ? — that the sentiments, the man- 



274 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

ners, and the passions, arranged themselves at once in the 
mind of Homer so as to form the Iliad ? Was there no 
more effort in the composition than there is in telling a 
well-known tale or singing a favorite song ? This can- 
not be believed. Granting that some happy thought first 
suggested the design of singing the wrath of Achilles, yet, 
surely, it was a matter of judgment and choice where the 
narration should begin, and where it should end. Grant- 
ing that the fertility of the poet's imagination suggested a 
variety of rich materials, was not judgment necessary to 
select what was proper, to reject what was improper, to 
arrange the materials into a just composition, and to adapt 
them to each other and to the design of the whole ? No 
man can believe that Homer's ideas, merely by certain 
sympathies and antipathies, by certain attractions and re- 
pulsions inherent in their natures, arranged themselves ac- 
cording to the most perfect rules of epic poetry, and 
Newton's, according to the rules of mathematical compo- 
sition. I should sooner believe that the poet, after he in- 
voked his Muse, did nothing at all but listen to the song of 
the goddess. Poets, indeed, and other artists, must make 
their works appear natural ; but nature is the perfection of 
art, and there can be no just imitation of nature without 
art. When the building is finished, the rubbish, the scaf- 
folds, the tools, and engines, are carried out of sight, but 
we know it could not have been reared without them. 

The train of thinking, therefore, is capable of being 
guided and directed, much in the same manner as the 
horse we ride.* The horse has his strength, his agility, 

* Mr. Stewart is obliged to admit that the mind has no direct power 
over the train of our thoughts ; that is, we cannot call up at will a par- 
ticular thought, as this would be to suppose it already in the mind. 
But it has a twofold indirect power. 1. In the first place, it has the power 
of singling out at pleasure any one idea in the train, detaining it, and 
making it a particular object of attention. " By doing so, we not only 
stop the succession that would otherwise take place, but, in consequence 
of our bringing to view the less obvious relations among our ideas, we 
frequently divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. 2. But 
the principal power we possess over the train of our ideas is founded on 
the influence which our habits of thinking have on the laws of associa- 
tion ; — an influence which is so great, that we may form a pretty shrewd 
judgment concerning a man's prevailing turn of thought from the tran- 
sitions lie makes in conversation or in writing. It is well known, 
too, that by means of habit a particular associating principle may be 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 275 

and his mettle in himself; he has been taught certain 
movements, and many useful habits that will make him 
more subservient to our purposes, and obedient to our 
will : but to accomplish a journey, he must be directed 
by the rider. 

In like manner, fancy has its original powers, which are 
very different in different persons ; it has likewise more 
regular motions, to which it has been trained by a long 
course of discipline and exercise ; and by which it may, 
extempore, and without much effort, produce things that 
have a considerable degree of beauty, regularity, and de- 
sign. But the most perfect works of design are never 
extemporary. Our first thoughts are reviewed ; we place 
them at a proper distance ; examine every part, and take 
a complex view of the whole. By our critical faculties, 
we perceive this part to be redundant, that deficient ; here 
is a want of nerves, there a want of delicacy ; this is ob- 
scure, that too diffuse. Things are marshalled anew, ac- 
cording to a second and more deliberate judgment ; what 
was deficient is supplied ; what was dislocated is put in 
joint ; redundances are lopped off", and the whole polished. 

Though poets, of all artists, make the highest claim to 
inspiration, yet if we believe Horace, a competent judge, 
no production in that art can have merit, which has not 
cost such labor as this in the birth. 

" Vos O ! 
Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite quod non 
Multa dies, et multa litura coercuit, atque 
Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem." 

The conclusion I would draw from all that has been 
said upon this subject is, that every thing that is regular 
in that train of thought which we call fancy or imagina- 
tion, from the little designs and reveries of children to 
the grandest productions of human genius, was originally 

strengthened to such a degree, as to give us a command of all the differ- 
ent ideas in our mind which have a certain relation to each other; so 
that, when any one of the class occurs to us, we bear almost a certainty 
that it will suggest the rest. Thus, a man who has an ambition to be- 
come a punster seldom or never fails in the attainment of his object; 
that is, he seldom or never fails in acquiring the power which other 
men have not, of summoning up, on a particular occasion, a number of 
words different from each other, but resembling each other, more or 
less, in sound." — Elements, Part I. Chap. V. Sect. III. — Ed. 



276 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

the offspring of judgment or taste, applied ivith some effort 
greater or less. What one person composed with art and 
judgment is imitated by another with great ease. What 
a man himself at first composed with pains becomes by 
habit so familiar, as to offer itself spontaneously to his fan- 
cy afterwards. But nothing that is regular was ever at 
first conceived without design, attention, and care. 

V. Laws or Conditions of Mental Association.'] I 
shall now make a kw reflections upon a theory which has 
been applied to account for this successive train of thought 
in the mind. It was hinted by Mr. Hobbes, but has 
drawn more attention since it was distinctly explained by 
Mr. Hume. 

That author thinks, that the train of thought in the mind 
is owing to a kind of attraction which ideas have for other 
ideas that bear certain relations to them. He thinks the 
complex ideas, which are the common subjects of our 
thoughts and reasoning, are owing to the same cause. 
The relations which produce this attraction of ideas, he 
thinks, are these three only, — to wit, causation, contigu- 
ity in time or place, and similitude. He asserts, that 
these are the only general principles that unite ideas. 
And having, in another place, occasion to take notice of 
contrariety as a principle of connection among ideas, in 
order to reconcile this to his system, he tells us gravely, 
that contrariety may perhaps be considered as a mixture 
of causation and resemblance. That ideas which have 
any of these three relations do mutually attract each other, 
so that one of them being presented to the fancy, the other 
is drawn along with it, — this he seems to think an origi- 
nal property of the mind, or rather of the ideas, and there- 
fore inexplicable. * 

* The history of the doctrine of association has never yet been at all 
adequately developed. Some of the most remarkable speculations on 
this matter are wholly unknown. Mr. Hume says, — "I do not find 
that any philosopher has attempted to enumerate or class all the princi- 
ples of association; a subject, however, that seems to me very worthy 
of curiosity. To me there appear to be only three principles of con- 
nection among ideas : resemblance, contiguity in time or place, cause and 
effect." — Essays, Vol. II. p. 24. Aristotle, and, after him, many other 
philosophers, had, however, done this, and with even greater success 
than Hume himself. Aristotle's reduction is to the four following 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 277 

First, I observe with regard to this theory, that, al- 
though it is true that the thought of any object is apt to 
lead us to the thought of its cause or effect, of things con- 
tiguous to it in time or place, or of things resembling it, 
yet this enumeration of the relations of things which are 
apt to lead us from one object to another is very inaccu- 
rate. 

The enumeration is too large upon his own principles ; 
but it is by far too scanty in reality. Causation, accord- 
heads: — proximity in time, contiguity in place, resemblance, contrast. 
This is more correct than Hume's; for Hume's second head ought to 
be divided into two; while our connecting any particular events in the 
relation of cause and effect is itself the result of their observed proximity 
in time and contiguity in place; nay, to custom and this empirical con- 
nection (as observed by Reid) does Hume himself endeavour to reduce 
the principle of causality altogether. — H . 

In his Supplementary Dissertations, Note D**, Sir W. Hamilton re- 
turns to the subject, reaffirming that all the attempts which have been 
made under the name of Histories of the Association of Ideas are frag- 
mentary contributions, and meagre and inaccurate as far as they go. 
" These inadequate attempts," he also says, " have been limited to Ger- 
many ; and in Germany, to the treatises of three authors; for the histor- 
ical notices on this doctrine, found in the works of other German psy- 
chologists, are wholly borrowed from them. I refer to the Geschichte 
of Hissmann (1777) ; to the Pdralipomena and Bey tr age. of Maass (1787, 
1792) ; and to the Vestioia of Goerenz (J 791). In England, indeed, 
we have a chapter in Mr. Coleridge's Biographia Literaria, entitled, 
On the Law of Association, — its History traced from Aristotle to Hart- 
ley ; but this, in so far as it is of any value, is a plagiarism, and a blun- 
dering plagiarism, from Maass; — the whole chapter exhibiting, in fact, 
more mistakes than paragraphs. We may judge of Mr. Coleridge's 
competence to speak of Aristotle, the great philosopher of ancient 
times, when we find him referring to the De Anima for his speculations 
on the associative principle; opposing the De Memoria and Parva JYa- 
turalia as distinct works; and attributing to Aquinas what belongs ex- 
clusively and notoriously to the Stagirite. We may judge of his com- 
petence to speak of Descartes, the great philosopher of modern times, 
when telling us, that idea, in the Cartesian philosophy, denotes merely 
a configuration of the brain ; the term, he adds, being first extended by 
Locke to denote the immediate object of the mind's attention in con- 
sciousness Sir James Mackintosh, again, founding on his own 

research, affirms that Aristotle and his disciples, among whom Vives is 
specified, confine the application of the law of association '■exclusively to 
the phenomena of recollection, without any glimpse of a more general op- 
eration extending to all the connections of thought and feeling '; while 
the enou.ncement of a general theory of association, thus denied to the 
genius of Aristotle, is, all, and more than all, accorded to the sagacity 
of Hobbes. The truth, however, is, that in his whole doctrine upon 
this subject, name and thing, Hobbes is simply a silent follower of the 
Stagirite; inferior to his master in the comprehension and accuracy of 
his general views, and not superior, even on the special points se- 
lected, either to Aristotle or to Vives." — Ed. 
24 



278 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

ing to his philosophy, implies nothing more than a con- 
stant conjunction observed between the cause and the ef- 
fect, and therefore contiguity must include causation, and 
his three principles of attraction are reduced to two. But 
when we take all the three, the enumeration is in reality 
very incomplete. Every relation of things has a tenden- 
cy, more or less, to lead the thought, in a thinking mind, 
from one to the other; and not only every relation, but 
every kind of contrariety and opposition.* What Mr. 
Hume says, — that contrariety may perhaps be consid- 
ered as a mixture "of causation and resemblance," — I 
can as little comprehend, as if he had said that figure may 
perhaps be considered as a mixture of color and sound. 

Our thoughts pass easily from the end to the means ; 
from any truth to the evidence on which it is founded, the 
consequences that may be drawn from it, or the use that 
may be made of it. From a part we are easily led to 
think of the whole, from a subject to its qualities, or from 
things related to the relation. Such transitions in think- 
ing must have been made thousands of times by every 
man who thinks and reasons, and thereby become, as it 
were, beaten tracks for the imagination. 

Not only the relations of objects to each other influence 
our train of thinking, but the relation they bear to the 
present temper and disposition of the mind ; their relation 
to the habits we have acquired, whether moral or intellect- 
ual; to the company we have kept, and to the business in 

* Still something may be gained by a judicious classification of the 
conditions and relations on which mental association depends. Dr. 
Brown, who has bestowed much attention on this subject, reduces the 
primary laics of association or suggestion to three : resemblance, con- 
trast, ?iearness in time or -place. These correspond to the four of Aris- 
totle, the third being divisible into two. Again, Dr. Brown thinks that 
the influence of the three primary laws is modified, in different per- 
sons and under different circumstances, by nine secondary laics. The 
latter are: — 1. The longer or shorter continuance of the attention 
which was given to the associated ideas when in connection. 2. Viv- 
idness of the coexistent emotions. 3. Frequency of repetition. 4. 
Lapse of time. 5. The exclusion of all other associations. 6. Origi- 
nal constitutional differences. 7. The state of the mind at the time. 
8. The state of the body. 9. Professional habits. See his Physiology 
of the Mind, p. 199, and also his Lectures, Lect. XXXV. -XXXVII. 
Compare Ballantyne's Examination of the Human Mind, Chap. II. ; 
Mill's Analysis, Chap. III.; and Sir W. Hamilton's Supplementary Dis- 
sertations, Note D***. — Ed. 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 279 

which we have been chiefly employed. The same event 
will suggest very different reflections to different persons, 
and to the same person at different times, according as he 
is in good or bad humor, as he is lively or dull, angry or 
pleased, melancholy or cheerful. 

Secondly, Let us consider how far this attraction of 
ideas must be resolved into original qualities of human na- 
ture. 

I believe the original principles of the mind, of which 
we can give no account but that such is our constitution, 
are more in number than is commonly thought. But we 
ought not to multiply them without necessity. That 
trains of thinking, which by frequent repetition have be- 
come familiar, should spontaneously offer themselves to 
our fancy, seems to require no other original quality but 
the power of habit.* In all rational thinking, and in all 
rational discourse, whether serious or facetious, the 
thought must have some relation to what went before. 
Every man, therefore, from the dawn of reason, must 
have been accustomed to a train of related objects. 
These please the understanding, and by custom become 
like beaten tracks which invite the traveller. 

As far as it is in our power to give a direction to our 
thoughts, (which it is, undoubtedly, in a great degree,) they 
will be directed by the active principles common to men, 
— by our appetites, our passions, our affections, our rea- 
son, and conscience. And that the trains of thinking in 
our minds are chiefly governed by these, according as one 

* We can as well explain habit by association, as association by hab- 
it.— H. 

Better even, according to Mr. Stewart, who says: — "The wonder- 
ful effect of practice in the formation of habits has been often and justly 
taken notice of, as one of the most curious circumstances in the human 
constitution. A mechanical operation, for example, which we at first 
performed with the utmost difficulty, comes, in time, to be so fanfiliar 
to us, that we are able to perform it without the smallest danger of mis- 
take; even while the attention appears to be completely engaged with 
other subjects. The truth seems to be, that, in consequence of the asso- 
ciation of ideas, the different steps of the process present themselves 
successively to the thoughts, without any recollection on our part, and 
with a degree of rapidity proportioned to the length of our experience, 
so as to save us the trouble of hesitation and reflection, by giving us ev- 
ery moment a precise and steady notion of the effect to be produced." 
Elements, Part I. Chap. II. — Ed. 



280 CONCEPTION, OR SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 

or another prevails at the time, every man will find in his 
experience. If the mind is at any time vacant from ev- 
ery passion and desire, there are still some objects that 
are more acceptable to us than others. The facetious 
man is pleased with surprising similitudes or contrasts ; 
the philosopher, with the relations of things that are sub- 
servient to reasoning ; the merchant, with what tends to 
profit ; and the politician, with what may mend the state. 

Nevertheless, I believe we are originally disposed, in 
imagination, to pass from any one object of thought to 
others that are contiguous to it in time or place. This I 
think may be observed in brutes and in idiots, as well as 
in children, before any habit can be acquired that might 
account for it. The sight of an object is apt to suggest 
to the imagination what has been seen or felt in conjunc- 
tion with it, even when the memory of that conjunction is 
gone. They expect events in the same order and suc- 
cession in which they happened before ; and by this ex- 
pectation, their actions and passions, as well as their 
thoughts, are regulated. A horse takes fright at the place 
where some object frighted him before. We are apt to 
conclude from this, that he remembers the former acci- 
dent. But perhaps there is only an association formed in 
his mind between the place and the passion of fear, with- 
out any distinct remembrance. 

Mr. Locke has given us a very good chapter upon the 
association of ideas ; and by the examples he has given to 
illustrate this doctrine, I think it appears that very strong 
associations may be formed at once ; not of ideas to ideas 
only, but of ideas to passions and emotions ; and that 
strong associations are never formed at once, but when 
accompanied by some- strong passion or emotion. I be- 
lieve this must also be resolved into the constitution of 
our*nature. 

It will be allowed by every man, that our happiness or 
misery in life, that our improvement in any art or science 
which we profess, and that our improvement in real virtue 
and goodness, depend in a very great degree on the train 
of thinking that occupies the mind both in our vacant and 
in our more serious hours. As far, therefore, as the di- 
rection of our thoughts is in our power, (and that it is so 



ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 281 

in a great measure cannot be doubted,) it is of the last 
importance to give them that direction which is most sub- 
servient to those valuable purposes. How happy is that 
mind, in which the light of real knowledge dispels the 
phantoms of superstition ; in which the belief and rever- 
ence of a perfect all-governing Mind casts out all fear but 
the fear of acting wrong ; in which serenity and cheerful- 
ness, innocence, humanity, and candor, guard the imagi- 
nation against the entrance of every unhallowed intruder, 
and invite more amiable and worthier guests to dwell ! * 

* On the doctrine of mental association the student may consult with 
advantage,, in addition to the works already indicated, Dr. Priestley's 
Hartley's Theory of the Human Mind, on the Principle of the Asso- 
ciation of Ideas ; with Essays relating to the Subject of it; Cardaillac, 
Etudes Elementaires de Plulosophie, Sect. V . ; Systematic Education, 
Vol. II. Chap. XIII. This chapter, Of Association, by Dr. Lant Car- 
penter, is one of the best summaries of the Hartleian doctrine. The 
important subject of casual associations, and their influence on char- 
acter and happiness, has been treated most fully and satisfactorily by 
Mr. Stewart, Elements, Part I. Chap. V. — Ed. 



M 



ESSAY Y. 

OF ABSTRACTION. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF GENERAL WORDS. 

I. The Distinction between General Words and Proper 
Names.~\ The words we use in language are either gen- 
eral words or proper names. Proper names are intended to 
signify one individual only. Such are the names cf men, 
kingdoms, provinces, cities, rivers, and of every other 
creature of God, or work of man, which we choose to 
distinguish from all others of the kind by a name appro- 
priated to it. All the other words of language are general 
words, not appropriated to signify any one individual 
thing, but equally related to many. 

In every language, rude or polished, general words 
make the greater part, and proper names the less. 
Grammarians have reduced all words to eight or nine 
classes, which are called parts of speech. Of these there 
is only one — to wit, that of nouns — wherein proper 
names are found. All pronouns, verbs, participles, ad- 
verbs, articles, prepositions, conjunctions, and interjec- 
tions, are general words. Of nouns, all adjectives are 
general words, and the greater part of substantives. 
Every substantive that has a plural number is a general 
word ; for.no proper name can have a plural number, be- 
cause it signifies only one individual. In all the fifteen 
books of Euclid's Elements, there is not one word that 
is not general ; and the same may be said of many large 
volumes. 

At the same time it must be acknowledged, that all the 



OF GENERAL WORDS. 283 

objects we perceive are individuals. Every object of 
sense, of memory, or of consciousness, is an individual 
object. All the good things we enjoy or desire, and all 
the evils we feel or fear, must come from individuals ; and 
I think we may venture to say, that every creature which 
God has made, in the heavens above, or in the earth be- 
neath, or in the waters under the earth, is an individual. 

II. Why General Words are so much more numerous.} 
How comes it to pass, then, that in all languages general 
words make the greatest part of the language, and proper 
names but a very small and inconsiderable part of it ? 
This seemingly strange phenomenon may, I think, be 
easily accounted for by the following observations. 

First, though there be a few individuals that are obvi- 
ous to the notice of all men, and therefore have proper 
names in all languages, — such as the sun and moon, the 
earth and sea, — yet the greatest part of the things to 
which we think fit to give proper names are local ; known 
perhaps to a village or to a neighbourhood, but unknown 
to the greater part of those who speak the same language, 
and to all the rest of mankind. The names of such things, 
being confined to a corner, and having no names answer- 
ing to them in other languages, are not accounted a part 
of the language, any more than the customs of a particu- 
lar hamlet are accounted part of the law of the nation. 

Secondly, it may be observed, that every individual ob- 
ject that falls within our view has various attributes ; and 
it is by them that it becomes useful or hurtful to us. We 
know not the essence of any individual object ; all the 
knowledge we can attain of it is the knowledge of its at- 
tributes, — its quantity, its various qualities, its various 
relations to other things, its place, its situation, and mo- 
tions. It is by such attributes of things only that we can 
communicate our knowledge of them to others. By their 
attributes, our hopes or fears from them are regulated ; 
and it is only by attention to their attributes that we can 
make them subservient to our ends ; and therefore we 
give names to such attributes. 

Now all attributes must from their nature be expressed 
by general words, and are so expressed in all languages. 



284 ABSTRACTION. 

In the ancient philosophy, attributes in general were called 
by two names which express their nature. They were 
called universals, because they might belong equally to 
many individuals, and are not confined to one. They 
were also called predicables, because whatever is predi- 
cated, that is, affirmed or denied of one subject, may be 
of more, and therefore is a universal, and expressed by 
a general word. A predicable, therefore, signifies the 
same thing as an attribute, with this difference only, that 
the first is Latin, the last English.* The attributes we 
find either in the creatures of God, or in the works of 
men, are common to many individuals. We either find 
it to be so, or presume it may be so, and give them the 
same name in every subject to which they belong. 

There are not only attributes belonging to individual 
subjects, but there are likewise attributes of attributes, 
which may be called secondary attributes. Most attri- 
butes are capable of different degrees, and different modi- 
fications, which must be expressed by general words. 
Thus it is an attribute of many bodies to be moved ; but 
motion may be in an endless variety of directions. It 
may be quick or slow, rectilineal or curvilineal ; it may be 
equable, or accelerated, or retarded. 

As all attributes, therefore, whether primary or secon- 
dary, are expressed by general words, it follows, that, in 
every proposition we express in language, what is affirmed 
or denied of the subject of the proposition must be ex- 
pressed by general words. 

Thirdly, the same faculties by which we distinguish 
the different attributes belonging to the same subject, and 
give names to them, enable us likewise to observe, that 
many subjects agree in certain attributes, while they differ 
in others. By this means we are enabled to reduce indi- 
viduals, which are infinite, to a limited number of classes, 
which are called kinds and sorts ; and, in the scholastic 
language, genera and species. Observing many individuals 
to agree in certain attributes, we refer them all to one 



* They are both Latin, or both English. The only difference is, that 
the one is of technical, the other of popular application, and that the 
former expresses as potential what the latter does as actual. — H. 



OF GENERAL WORDS. 285 

class, and give a name to the class. This name compre- 
hends in its signification, not one attribute only, but all the 
attributes which distinguish that class ; and by affirming 
this name of any individual, we affirm it to have all the 
attributes which characterize the class : thus men, dogs, 
horses, elephants, are so many different classes of animals. 
In like manner we marshal other substances, vegetable 
and inanimate, into classes. Nor is it only substances 
that we thus form into classes. We do the same with re- 
gard to qualities, relations, actions, affections, passions, 
and all other things. 

When a class is very large, it is divided into subordi- 
nate classes in the same manner. The higher class is 
called a genus or kind ; the lower, a species or sort of the 
higher. Sometimes a species is still subdivided into sub- 
ordinate species ; and this subdivision is carried on as far 
as is found convenient for the purpose of language, or for 
the improvement of knowledge. 

In this distribution of things into genera and species, it 
is evident that the name of the species comprehends more 
attributes than the name of the genus. The species com- 
prehends all that is in the genus, and those attributes like- 
wise which distinguish that species from others belonging 
to the same genus ; and the more subdivisions we make, 
the names of the lower become still the more compre- 
hensive in their signification, but the less extensive in 
their application to individuals. 

Hence it is an axiom in logic, that, the more extensive 
any general term is, it is the less comprehensive ; and, on 
the contrary, the more comprehensive, the less extensive. 
Thus, in the following series of subordinate general terms, 
— animal, man, Frenchman, Parisian, — every subsequent 
term comprehends in its signification all that is in the pre- 
ceding, and something more ; and every antecedent term 
extends to more individuals than the subsequent. 

Such divisions and subdivisions of things into genera 
and species, with general names, are not confined to the 
learned and polished languages ; they are found in those 
of the rudest tribes of mankind : from which we learn, 
that the invention and the use of general words, both to 
signify the attributes of things, and to signify the genera 



286 ABSTRACTION. 

and species of things, is not a subtile invention of philoso- 
phers, but an operation which all men perform by the light 
of common sense. Philosophers may speculate about this 
operation, and reduce it to canons and aphorisms ; but 
men of common understanding, without knowing any thing 
of the philosophy of it, can put it in practice ; in like man- 
ner as they can see objects, and make good use of their 
eyes, although they know nothing of the structure of the 
eye, or of the theory of vision.* 

III. General Words the Signs of General Conceptions.] 
As general words are so necessary in language, it is natu- 
ral to conclude that there must be general conceptions, of 
which tbey are the signs. Words are empty sounds when 
they do not signify the thoughts of the speaker ; and it is 
only from their signification that they are denominated 
general. Every word that is spoken, considered merely 
as a sound, is an individual sound. And it can only be 
called a general word, because that which it signifies is 
general. Now, that which it signifies is conceived by 
the mind both of the speaker and hearer, if the word have 

* This is well illustrated by Adam Smith in the following passage, 
taken from the beginning of his Considerations concerning the First For- 
mation of Languages : — "The assignation of particular names to denote 
particular objects, that is, the institution of nouns substantive, would, 
probably, be one of the first steps towards the formation of language. 
Two savages, who had never been taught to speak, but had been bred 
up remote from the societies of men, would naturally begin to form that 
language, by which they would endeavour to make their mutual wants 
intelligible to each other, by uttering certain sounds, whenever they 
meant to denote certain objects. Those objects only which were most 
familiar to them, and which they had most frequent occasion to men- 
tion, would have particular names assigned to them. The particular 
cave whose covering sheltered them from the weather, the particular 
tree whose fruit relieved their hunger, the particular fountain whose 
water allayed their thirst, would first be denominated by the words 
cave, tree, fountain, or by whatever other appellations they might think 
proper, in that primitive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, when the 
more enlarged experience of these savages had led them to observe, 
and their necessary occasions obliged them to make mention of, other 
caves, and other trees, and other fountains, they would naturally be- 
stow upon each of those new objects the same name by which they had 
been accustomed to express the similar object they were first acquainted 
with. And thus those words, which were originally the proper names 
of individuals, would each of them insensibly become the common 
name of a multitude." — Ed. 



OF GENERAL WORDS. 2S7 

a distinct meaning, and be distinctly understood. It is 
therefore impossible that words can have a general signi- 
fication, unless there be conceptions in the mind of the 
speaker, and of the hearer, of things that are general. 

We are therefore here to consider whether we have 
such general conceptions, and how they are formed. 

To begin with the conceptions expressed by general 
terms, that is, by such general words as may be the sub- 
ject or the predicate of a proposition. They are either 
attributes of things, or they are genera or species of things. 

It is evident, with respect to all the individuals we are 
acquainted with, that we have a more clear and distinct 
conception of their attributes, than of the subject to which 
those attributes belong. 

Take, for instance, any individual body we have access 
to know, — what conception do we form of it ? Every 
man may know this from his consciousness. He will find 
that he conceives it as a thing that has length, breadth, 
and thickness, such a figure, and such a color ; that it is 
hard, or soft, or fluid ; that it has such qualities, and is fit 
for such purposes. If it is a vegetable, he may know 
where it grew, what is the form of its leaves, and flower, 
and seed ; if an animal, what are its natural instincts, its 
manner of life, and of rearing its young. Of these attri- 
butes belonging to this individual, and numberless others, 
he may surely have a distinct conception ; and he will find 
words in language by which he can clearly and distinctly 
express each of them. 

Indeed, the attributes of individuals are all that we dis- 
tinctly conceive about them. It is true, we conceive a 
subject to which the attributes belong ; but of this subject, 
when its attributes are set aside, we have but an obscure 
and relative conception, whether it be body or mind. 

The other class of general terms are those that signify 
ti.e genera and species into which we divide and subdivide 
thugs. And if we be able to form distinct conceptions of 
attributes, it cannot surely be denied that we may have 
distinct conceptions of genera and species ; because they 
are only collections of attributes which we conceive to ex- 
ist in a subject, and to which we give a general name. If 
the attributes comprehended under that general name be 



288 ABSTRACTION. 

distinctly conceived, the thing meant by the name must be 
distinctly conceived. And the name may justly be attrib- 
uted to every individual which has those attributes. 

Thus, I conceive distinctly what it is to have wings, to 
be covered with feathers, to lay eggs. Suppose, then, that 
we give the name of bird to every animal that has these 
three attributes. Here, undoubtedly, my conception of a 
bird is as distinct as my notion of the attributes which are 
common to this species : and if this be admitted to be the 
definition of a bird, there is nothing I conceive more dis- 
tinctly. If I had never seen a bird, and can but be made 
to understand the definition, I can easily apply it to every 
individual of the species, without danger of mistake. 

When things are divided and subdivided by men of sci- 
ence, and names given to the genera and species, those 
names are defined. Thus, the genera and species of 
plants, and of other natural bodies, are accurately defined 
by the writers in the various branches of natural history ; 
so that, to all future generations, the definition will convey 
a distinct notion of the genus or species defined. 

There are, without doubt, many words signifying gen- 
era and species of things, which have a meaning somewhat 
vague and indistinct ; so that those who speak the same 
language do not always use them in the same sense. But 
if we attend to the cause of this indistinctness, we shall 
find, that it is not owing to their being general terms, but 
to this, that there is no definition of them that has author- 
ity. Their meaning, therefore, has not been learned by a 
definition, but by a kind of induction, by observing to 
what individuals they are applied by those who understand 
the language. We learn by habit to use them as we see 
others do, even when we have not a precise meaning an- 
nexed to them. A man may know, that to certain indi- 
viduals they may be applied with propriety ; but whether 
they can be applied to certain other individuals, he may 
be uncertain, either from want of good authorities, or from 
having contrary authorities, which leave him in doubt. 

Thus, a man may know, that, when he applies the name 
of beast to a lion or tiger, and the name of bird to an eagle 
or a turkey, he speaks properly. But whether a bat be a 
bird or a beast, he may be uncertain. If there were any 



OF GENERAL WORDS. 289 

accurate definition of a beast and of a bird, that is of 
sufficient authority, he could be at no loss. 

A genus or species, being a collection of attributes, 
conceived to exist in one subject, a definition is the only 
way to prevent any addition or diminution of its ingredi- 
ents in the conception of different persons ; and when 
there is no definition that can be appealed to as a stand- 
ard, the name will hardly retain the most perfect precis- 
ion in its signification. 

My design at present being only to show that we have 
general conceptions no less clear and distinct than those 
of individuals, it is sufficient for this purpose, if this ap- 
pears with regard to the conceptions expressed by general 
terms. To conceive the meaning of a general word, and 
to conceive that which it signifies, is the same thing. We 
conceive distinctly the meaning of general terms, therefore 
we conceive distinctly that, which they signify. But such 
terms do not signify any individual, but what is common 
to many individuals ; therefore we have a distinct concep- 
tion of things common to many individuals, that is, we 
have distinct general conceptions. 

We must here beware of the ambiguity of the word 
conception, which sometimes signifies the act of the mind 
in conceiving, sometimes the thing conceived, which is 
the object of that act.* If the word be taken in the first 
sense, I acknowledge that every act of the mind is an in- 
dividual act ; the universality, therefore, is not in the act 
of the mind, but in the object, or thing conceived. The 
thing conceived is an attribute common to many subjects, 
or it is a genus or species common to many individuals.! 

* This last should be called concept, which was a term in use with 
the old English philosophers. — H. 

t On the whole subject of names and naming, see James Mill's Anal- 
ysis, Vol. I. p. 83 et seq.; Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sci- 
ences, Vol. I., Aphorisms; and J. S. Mill's System of Logic, Book I. — 
Ed. 



25 



290 ABSTRACTION. 

CHAPTER II. 

OF THE FORMATION OF GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 

I. Distribution of the Subject.'] We are next to con- 
sider the operations of the understanding, by which we 
are enabled to form general conceptions. These appear 
to me to be three : — 

First, The resolving or analyzing a subject into its 
known attributes, and giving a name to each attribute, 
which name shall signify that attribute, and nothing more. 

Secondly, The observing one or more such attributes 
to be comtnon to many subjects. 

The first is by philosophers called abstraction ; the sec- 
ond may be called generalizing ; but both are commonly 
included under the name of abstraction. 

It is difficult to say which of them goes first, or wheth- 
er they are not so closely connected that neither can 
claim the precedence. For, on the one hand, to perceive 
an agreement between two or more objects in the same 
attribute, seems to require nothing more than to compare 
them together. A savage, upon seeing snow and chalk, 
would find no difficulty in perceiving that they have the 
same color. Yet, on the other hand, it seems impossi- 
ble that he should observe this agreement without abstrac- 
tion, — that is, distinguishing in his conception the color, 
wherein those two objects agree, from the other qualities 
wherein they disagree. 

It seems, therefore, that we cannot generalize without 
some degree of abstraction ; but I apprehend we may ab- 
stract without generalizing. For what hinders me from 
attending to the whiteness of the paper before me, without 
applying that color to any other object ? The whiteness 
of this individual object is an abstract conception, but not 
a general one, while applied to one individual only. 
These two operations, however, are subservient to each 
other ; for the more attributes we observe and distinguish 
in any one individual, the more agreements we shall dis- 
cover between it and other individuals. 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 291 

A third operation of the understanding, by which we 
form abstract conceptions, is the combining into one whole 
a certain number of those attributes of which we have 
formed abstract notions, and giving a name to that combi- 
nation. It is thus we form abstract notions of the genera 
and species of things. These three operations we shall 
consider in order. 

II. General Conceptions formed by analyzing Objects.'] 
With regard to abstraction, strictly so called, I can per- 
ceive nothing in it that is difficult either to be understood 
or practised. What can be more easy than to distinguish 
the different attributes which we know to belong to a sub- 
ject ? In a man, for instance, to distinguish his size, his 
complexion, his age, his fortune, his birth, his profession, 
and twenty other things that belong to him. To think 
and speak of these things with understanding, is surely 
within the reach of every man endowed with the hwman 
faculties. 

There may be distinctions that require nice discern- 
ment, or an acquaintance with the subject that is not com- 
mon. Thus, a critic in painting may discern the style of 
Raphael or Titian, when another man could not. A law- 
yer may be acquainted with many distinctions in crimes, 
and contracts, and actions, which never occurred to a 
man who has not studied law. One man may excel an- 
other in the talent of distinguishing, as he may in memory 
or in reasoning ; but there is a certain degree of this tal- 
ent, without which a man would have no title to be con- 
sidered as a reasonable creature. 

It ought likewise to be observed, that attributes may 
with perfect ease be distinguished and disjoined in our 
conception, which cannot be actually separated in the sub- 
ject. Thus, in a body, I can distinguish its solidity from 
its extension, and its weight from both. In extension, I 
can distinguish length, breadth, and thickness, yet none of 
these can be separated from the body, or from one an- 
other. One cannot exist without the other, but one can. 
be conceived without the other. 

Having considered abstraction, strictly so called, let us 
next consider the operation of generalizing, which is noth- 



292 ABSTRACTION. 

ing but the observing one or more attributes to be common 
to many subjects. 

If any man can doubt whether there be attributes that 
are really common to many individuals, let him consider 
whether there be not many men that are above six feet 
high, and many below it ; whether there be not many men. 
that are rich, and many more that are poor ; whether 
there be not many that were born in Britain, and many 
that were born in France. To multiply instances of this 
kind would be to affront the reader's understanding. It 
is certain, therefore, that there are innumerable attributes 
that are really common to many individuals ; and if this 
be what the schoolmen called universale a parte rei, we 
may affirm with certainty, that there are such universals. 

There are some attributes expressed by general words, 
of which this may seem more doubtful. Such are the 
qualities which are inherent in their several subjects. It 
may be said that every subject hath its own qualities, and 
that which is the quality of one subject cannot be the' 
quality of another subject. Thus, the whiteness of the 
sheet of paper upon which I write cannot be the white- 
ness of another sheet, though both are called white. The 
weight of one guinea is not the weight of another guinea, 
though both are said to have the same weight. 

To this I answer, that the whiteness of this sheet is one 
thing, whiteness is another ; the conceptions signified by 
these two forms of speech are as different as the expres- 
sions. The first signifies an individual quality really ex- 
isting, and is not a general conception, though it be an ab- 
stract one ; the second signifies a general conception, 
which implies no existence, but may be predicated of ev- 
ery thing that is white, and in the same sense. On this 
account, if one should say, that the whiteness of this sheet 
is the whiteness of another sheet, every man perceives this 
to be absurd ; but when he says both sheets are white, 
this is true and perfectly understood. The conception of 
whiteness implies no existence ; it would remain the same, 
though every thing in the universe that is white were anni- 
hilated. 

It appears, therefore, that the general names of quali- 
ties, as well as of other attributes, are applicable to many 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 293 

individuals in the same sense, which could not be if there 
were not general conceptions signified by such names. 

The ancient philosophers called these universals or 
predicables, and endeavoured to reduce them to five 
classes ; to wit, genus, species, specific difference, prop- 
erties, and accidents. Perhaps there may be more class- 
es of universals or attributes, for enumerations so very 
general are seldom complete ; but every attribute, com- 
mon to several individuals, may be expressed by a gen- 
eral term, which is the sign of a general conception. 

How prone men are to form general conceptions we 
may see from the use of metaphor, and of the other fig- 
ures of speech grounded on similitude. Similitude is 
nothing else than an agreement of the objects compared 
in one or more attributes ; and if there be no attribute 
common to both, there can be no similitude. 

The similitudes and analogies between the various ob- 
jects that nature presents to us are infinite and inexhaust- 
ible. They not only please, when displayed by the poet 
or wit in works of taste, but they are highly useful in the 
ordinary communication of our thoughts and sentiments 
by language. In the rude languages of barbarous nations, 
similitudes and analogies supply the want of proper words 
to express men's sentiments, so much, that in such lan- 
guages there is hardly a sentence without a metaphor ; 
and if we examine the most copious and polished lan- 
guages, we shall find that a great proportion of the words 
and phrases which are accounted the most proper may 
be said to be the progeny of metaphor. 

As foreigners, who settle in a nation as their home, 
come at last to be incorporated, and lose the denomina- 
tion of foreigners, so words and phrases, at first borrowed 
and figurative, by long use become denizens in the lan- 
guage, and lose the denomination of figures of speech. 
When we speak of the extent of knowledge, the steadiness 
of virtue, the tenderness of affection, the perspicuity of 
expression, no man conceives these to be metaphorical 
expressions ; they are as proper as any in the language. 
Yet it appears upon the very face of them, that they must 
have been metaphorical in those who used them first ; and 
that it is by use and prescription that they have lost the 
25* 



294 ABSTRACTION. 

denomination of figurative, and acquired a right to be con- 
sidered as proper words. This observation will be found 
to extend to a great part, perhaps the greater part, of the 
words of the most perfect languages. 

Sometimes the name of an individual is given to a gen- 
eral conception, and thereby the individual in a manner 
generalized. As when the Jew, in Shakspeare, says, 
" A Daniel come to judgment ; yea, a Daniel ! " In 
this speech, " a Daniel " is an attribute, or a universal. 
The character of Daniel, as a man of singular wisdom, is 
abstracted from his person, and considered as capable of 
being attributed to other persons. 

Upon the whole, these two operations of abstracting 
and generalizing appear common to all men that have un- 
derstanding. The practice of them is, and must be, fa- 
miliar to every man that uses language ; but it is one thing 
to practise them, and another to explain how they are per- 
formed ; as it is one thing to see, another to explain how 
we see. The first is the province of all men, and is the 
natural and easy operation of the faculties which God has 
given us. The second is the province of philosophers, 
and, though a matter of no great difficulty in itself, has 
been much perplexed by the ambiguity of words, and still 
more by the hypotheses of philosophers. 

A mistake which is carried through the whole of Mr. 
Locke's Essay may be here mentioned. It is, that our 
simplest ideas or conceptions are got immediately by the 
senses, or by consciousness, and the complex afterwards 
formed by compounding them. I apprehend it is far oth- 
erwise. Nature presents no object to the senses, or to 
consciousness, that is not complex. Thus, by our senses 
we perceive bodies of various kinds ; but every body is a 
complex body ; it has length, breadth, and thickness ; it 
has figure, and color, and various other sensible qualities, 
which are blended together in the same subject ; and I 
apprehend that brute animals, who have the same senses 
that we have, cannot separate the different qualities be- 
longing to the same subject, and have only a complex and 
confused notion of the whole. Such, also, would be our 
notions of the objects of sense, if we had not superior 
powers of understanding, by which we can analyze the 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 295 

complex object, abstract every particular attribute from 
the rest, and form a distinct conception of it. So that it 
is not by the senses immediately, but rather by the powers 
of analyzing and abstraction, that we get the most simple 
and the most distinct notions even of the objects of sense. 

As it is by analyzing a complex object into its several 
attributes that we acquire our simplest abstract concep- 
tions, it may be proper to compare this analysis with that 
which a chemist makes of a compounded body into the in- 
gredients which enter into its composition ; for although 
there be such an analogy between these two operations, 
that we give to both the name of analysis or resolution, 
there is at the same time so great a dissimilitude in some 
respects, that we may be led into error, by applying to 
one what belongs to the other. 

It is obvious, that the chemical analysis is an operation 
of the hand upon matter, by various material instruments. 
The analysis we are now explaining is purely an operation 
of the understanding, which requires no material instru- 
ment, and produces no change upon any external thing ; 
we shall therefore call it intellectual or mental analysis. 

In chemical analysis, the compound body itself is the 
subject analyzed, — a subject so imperfectly known, that 
it may be compounded of various ingredients, when to our 
senses it appears perfectly simple ; and even when we are 
able to analyze it into the different ingredients of which it 
is composed, we know not how or why the combination 
of those ingredients produces such a body. 

Thus, pure sea-salt is a body, to appearance, as simple 
as any in nature. Every the least particle of it, discerni- 
ble by our senses, is perfectly similar to every other par- 
ticle in all its qualities. The nicest taste, the quickest 
eye, can discern no mark of its being made up of different 
ingredients ; yet, by the chemical art, it can be ana- 
lyzed into an acid and an alkali, and can be again pro- 
duced by the combination of those two ingredients. But 
how this combination produces sea-salt, no man has been 
able to discover. The ingredients are both as unlike the 
compound as any bodies we know. No man could have 
guessed, before the thing was known, that sea-salt is com- 
pounded of those two ingredients ; no man could have 



296 ABSTRACTION. 

guessed, that the union of those two ingredients should 
produce such a compound as sea-salt. Such, in many- 
cases, are the phenomena of the chemical analysis of a 
compound body. 

If we consider the intellectual analysis of an object, it 
is evident that nothing of this kind can happen ; because 
the thing analyzed is not an external object imperfectly 
known ; it is a conception of the mind itself. And to 
suppose that there can be any thing in a conception that 
is not conceived, is a contradiction. 

The reason of observing the difference between these 
two kinds of analysis is, that some philosophers, in order 
to support their systems, have maintained, that a complex 
idea may have the appearance of the most perfect simpli- 
city, and retain no similitude to any of the simple ideas of 
which it is compounded ; just as a white color may ap- 
pear perfectly simple, and retain no similitude to any of 
the seven primary colors of which it is compounded ; or 
as a chemical composition may appear perfectly simple, 
and retain no similitude to any of the ingredients. 

From which those philosophers have drawn this impor- 
tant conclusion, that a cluster of the ideas of sense, prop- 
erly combined, may make the idea of a mind ; and that all 
the ideas which Mr. Locke calls ideas of reflection are 
only compositions of the ideas which we have by our jive 
senses. From this the transition is easy, that if a proper 
composition of the ideas of matter may make the idea of a 
mind, then a proper composition of matter itself may make 
a mind, and that man is only a piece of matter curiously 
formed. 

In this curious system, the whole fabric rests upon this 
foundation, that a complex idea, which is made up of va- 
rious simple ideas, may appear to be perfectly simple, and 
to have no marks of composition, because a compound 
body may appear to our senses to be perfectly simple. 

As far as I am able to judge, this, which it is said may 
be, cannot be. That a complex idea should be made up 
of simple ideas, so that, to a ripe understanding reflecting 
upon that idea, there should be no appearance of compo- 
sition, nothing similar to the simple ideas of which it is 
compounded, seems to me to involve a contradiction. 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 297 

The idea is a conception of the mind. If any thing more 
than this is meant by the idea, I know not what it is ; and 
I wish both to know what it is, and to have proof of its 
existence. Now that there should be any thing in the 
conception of an object which is not conceived, appears 
to me as manifest a contradiction, as that there should be 
an existence which does not exist, or that a thing should 
be conceived and not conceived at the same time. 

But, say these philosophers, a white color is produced 
by the composition of the primary colors, and yet has no 
resemblance to any of them. I grant it. But what can 
be inferred from this with regard to the composition of 
ideas 9 To bring this argument home to the point, they 
must say that, because a white color is compounded of the 
primary colors, therefore the idea of a white color is com- 
pounded of the ideas of the primary colors. This rea- 
soning, if it was admitted, would lead to innumerable ab- 
surdities. An opaque fluid may be compounded of two 
or more pellucid fluids. Hence we might infer with equal 
force, that the idea of an opaque fluid may be compounded 
of the idea of two or more pellucid fluids. 

Nature's way of compounding bodies, and our way of 
compounding ideas, are so different in many respects, that 
we cannot reason from the one to the other, unless it can 
be found that ideas are combined by fermentation's and 
elective attractions, and may be analyzed in a furnace by 
the force of fire and of menstruums. Until this discovery 
be made, we must hold those to be simple ideas, which, 
upon the most attentive reflection, have no appearance of 
composition ; and those only to be the ingredients of com- 
plex ideas, which, by attentive reflection, can be per- 
ceived to be contained in them. 

III. General Conceptions formed by Combination.] 
As, by an intellectual analysis of objects, we form gen- 
eral conceptions of single attributes (which, of all con- 
ceptions that enter into the human mind, are the most 
simple), so, by combining several of these into one parcel, 
and giving a name to that combination, we form general 
conceptions that may be very complex, and at the same 
time very distinct. 



298 ABSTRACTION. 

Thus one, who, by analyzing extended objects, has got 
the simple notions of a point, a line, straight or curve, an 
angle, a surface, a solid, can easily conceive a plain sur- 
face terminated by four equal straight lines meeting in four 
points at right angles. To this species of figure he gives 
the name of a square. In like manner, he can conceive a 
solid terminated by six equal squares, and give it the name 
of a cube. A square, a cube, and every name of mathe- 
matical figure, is a general term expressing a complex 
general conception, made by a certain combination of the 
simple elements into which we analyze extended bodies. 

Every mathematical figure is accurately defined by enu- 
merating the simple elements of which it is formed, and the 
manner of their combination. The definition contains the 
whole essence of it; and every property that belongs to it 
may be deduced by demonstrative reasoning from its def- 
inition. It is not a thing that exists, for then it would be 
an individual; but it is a thing that is conceived without 
regard to existence. 

A farm, a manor, a parish, a county, a kingdom, are 
complex general conceptions, formed by various combi- 
nations and modifications of inhabited territory, under cer- 
tain forms of government. Different combinations of mili- 
tary men form the notions of a company, a regiment, an 
army.* The several crimes which are the objects of crim- 
inal law, such as theft, murder, robbery, piracy, — whaft 
are they but certain combinations of human actions and in- 
tentions, which are accurately defined in criminal law, and 
which it is found convenient to comprehend under one 
name and consider as one thing ? 

When we observe that nature, in her animal, vegetable, 
and inanimate productions, has formed many individuals 
that agree in many of their qualities and attributes, we are 
led by natural instinct to expect their agreement in other 
qualities which we have not had occasion to perceive. 

The physician expects that the rhubarb which has 
never yet been tried will have like medical virtues with 
that which he has prescribed on former occasions. Two 
parcels of rhubarb agree in certain sensible qualities, from 
which agreement they are both called by the same general 
name, rhubarb. Therefore it is expected that they will 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 299 

agree in their medical virtues. And as experience has 
discovered certain virtues in one parcel, or in many par- 
cels, we presume, without experience, that the same vir- 
tues belong to all parcels of rhubarb that shall be used. 

If a traveller meets a horse, an ox, or a sheep, which 
he never saw before, he is under no apprehension, believ- 
ing these animals to be of a species that is tame and in- 
offensive. But he dreads a lion or a tiger, because they 
are of a fierce and ravenous species. 

We are capable of receiving innumerable advantages, 
and are exposed to innumerable dangers, from the various 
productions of nature, animal, vegetable, and inanimate. 
The life of man, if a hundred times longer than it is, 
would be insufficient to learn from experience the useful 
and hurtful qualities of every individual production of na- 
ture, taken singly. 

We have, therefore, a strong and rational inducement 
both to distribute natural substances into classes, genera 
and species, under general names, and to do this with all 
the accuracy and distinctness we are able. For the more 
accurate our divisions are made, and the more distinctly 
the several species are defined, the more securely we may 
ely that the qualities we find in one or in a few individu- 
als will be found in all of the same species. 

It may likewise be observed, that the combinations that 
have names are nearly, though not perfectly, the same in 
the different languages of civilized nations that have inter- 
course with one another. Hence it is that the lexicog- 
rapher, for the most part, can give words in one language 
answering perfectly, or very nearly, to those of another; 
and what is wrote in a simple style in one language can 
be translated, almost word for word, into another.* From 
this we may conclude that there are either certain com- 
mon principles of human nature, or certain common oc- 
currences of human life, which dispose men, out of an 
infinite number that might be formed, to form certain 
combinations rather than others. 

In the rudest state of society, men must have occasion 
to form the general notions of man, woman, father, mother, 

* This is only strictly true of the words relative to objects of sense. 



300 ABSTRACTION. 

son, daughter, sister, brother, neighbour, friend, enemy, 
and many others, to express the common relations of one 
person to another. 

If they are employed in hunting, they must have gen- 
eral terms to express the various implements and opera- 
tions of the chase. Their houses and clothing, however 
simple, will furnish another set of general terms, to ex- 
press the materials, the workmanship, and the excellen- 
ces and defects of those fabrics. If they sail upon rivers 
or upon the sea, this will give occasion to a great number 
of general terms, which otherwise would never have oc- 
curred to their thoughts. 

The same thing may be said of agriculture, of pastur- 
age, of every art they practise and of every branch of 
knowledge they attain. The necessity of general terms 
for communicating our sentiments is obvious, and the in- 
vention of them, as far as we find them necessary, requires 
no other talent than that degree of understanding which is 
common to men. 

New inventions of general use give an easy birth to new 
complex notions and new names, which spread as far as 
the invention does. How many new complex notions 
have been formed, and names for them invented in the 
languages of Europe, by the modern inventions of print- 
ing, of gunpowder, of the mariner's compass, of optical 
glasses ! The simple ideas combined in those complex 
notions, and the associating qualities of those ideas, are 
very ancient, but they never produced those complex no- 
tions until there was use for them. 

What is peculiar to a nation in its customs, manners, 
or laws, will give occasion to complex notions and words 
peculiar to the language of that nation. Hence it is easy 
to see why impeachment and attainder in the English 
language, and ostracism in the Greek language, have not 
names answering to them in other languages. 

I apprehend, therefore, that it is utility, and not, as 
some have thought, the associating qualities of the ideas, 
that has led men to form only certain combinations, and to 
give names to them in language, while they neglect an in- 
finite number that might be formed. 

There remains a very large class of complex general 



GENERAL CONCEPTIONS. 301 

terms, on which I shall make some observations ; I 
mean those by which we name the genera and species of 
natural substances. 

It is utility, indeed, that leads us to give general names 
to the various species of natural substances; but, in com- 
bining the attributes which are included under the specific 
name, we are more aided and directed by nature, than in 
forming other combinations of mixed modes and relations. 
In the last, the ingredients are brought together in the occur- 
rences of life, or in the actions or thoughts of men. But 
in the first, the ingredients are united by nature in many 
individual substances which God has made. We form a 
general notion of those attributes wherein many individu- 
als agree. We give a specific name to this combination, 
which name is common to all substances having those at- 
tributes, which either do or may exist. The specific 
name comprehends neither more nor fewer attributes than 
ice find proper to put into its definition. It comprehends 
not time, nor place, nor even existence, although there 
can be no individual without these. 

This work of the understanding is absolutely necessary 
for speaking intelligibly of the productions of nature, and 
for reaping the benefits we receive, and avoiding the dan- 
gers we are exposed to, from them. The individuals are 
so many, that to give a proper name to each would be be- 
yond the power of language. If a good or bad quality 
were observed in an individual, of how small use would this 
be if there were not a species in which the same quality 
might be expected ? 

Without some general knowledge of the qualities of nat- 
ural substances, human life could not be preserved. And 
there can be no general knowledge of this kind without re- 
ducing them to species under specific names. For this 
reason, among the rudest nations, we find names for fire, 
water, earth, air, mountains, fountains, rivers; for the 
kinds of vegetables they use; of animals they hunt or 
tame, or that are found useful or hurtful. Each of those 
names signifies in general a substance having a certain com- 
bination of attributes. The name, therefore, must be com- 
mon to all substances in which those attributes are found. 

Such general names of substances being found in all 
26 



302 ABSTRACTION. 

vulgar languages, before philosophers began to make ac- 
curate divisions and less obvious distinctions, it is not to 
be expected that their meaning should be more precise 
than is necessary for the common purposes of life. 

As the knowledge of nature advances, more species of 
natural substances are observed, and their useful qualities 
discovered. In order that this important part of human 
knowledge may be communicated, and handed down to 
future generations, it is not sufficient that the species have 
names. Such is the fluctuating state of language, that a 
general name will not always retain the same precise sig- 
nification, unless it have a definition in which men are dis- 
posed to acquiesce. 

There was undoubtedly a great fund of natural knowl- 
edge among the Greeks and Romans in the time of Pliny. 
There is a great fund in his Natural History ; but much 
of it is lost to us, for this reason, among others, that we 
know not what species of substance he means by such a 
name. Nothing could have prevented this loss but an ac- 
curate definition of the name, by which the species might 
have been distinguished from all others, as long as that 
name and its definition remained. To prevent such loss 
in future times, modern philosophers have very laudably 
attempted to give names and accurate definitions of all 
the known species of substances wherewith the bountiful 
Creator has enriched our globe. 

Nature invites to this work, by having formed things so 
as to make it both easy and important. For, first, we 
perceive numbers of individual substances so like in their 
obvious qualities that the most unimproved tribes of men 
consider them as of one species, and give them one com- 
mon name. Secondly, the more latent qualities of sub- 
stances are generally the same in all the individuals of a 
species; so that what, by observation or experiment, is 
found in a few individuals of a species, is presumed and 
commonly found to belong to the whole. By this we are 
enabled, from particular facts, to draw general conclusions. 
This kind of induction is indeed the master-key to the 
knowledge of nature, without which we could form no 
general conclusions in that branch of philosophy. And, 
thirdly, by the very constitution of our nature, we are led, 



REALISTS, NOMINALISTS, AND CONCEPTUALISTS. 303 

without reasoning, to ascribe to the whole species what 
we have found to belong to the individuals. It is thus we 
come to know that fire burns and water drowns, that bod- 
ies gravitate and bread nourishes. 

The species of two of the kingdoms of nature — to 
wit, the animal and the vegetable — seem to be fixed by 
nature, by the power they have of producing their like. 
And in these, men in all ages and nations have accounted 
the parent and the progeny of the same species. The 
differences among naturalists with regard to the species of 
these two kingdoms are very inconsiderable, and may be 
occasioned by the changes produced by soil, climate, and 
culture, and sometimes by monstrous productions, which 
are comparatively rare. 

In the inanimate kingdom w T e have not the same means 
of dividing things into species, and therefore the limits 
of species seem to be more arbitrary; but, from the prog- 
ress already made, there is ground to hope, that, even in 
this kingdom, as the knowledge of it advances, the various 
species may be so well distinguished and defined as to an- 
swer every valuable purpose. 



CHAPTER III. 

v 

OPINIONS OF PHILOSOPHERS ABOUT UNIVERSALE. 

I. Opinions of the Ancients on the Subject.^ In the 
ancient philosophy, the doctrine of universals, that is, of 
things which we express by general terms, makes a great 
figure. The ideas of the Pythagoreans and Platonists 
were universals. All science is employed about univer- 
sals as its object. It was thought that there can be no 
science unless its object be something real and immutable, 
and therefore those who paid homage to truth and sci- 
ence maintained that ideas or universals have a real and 
immutable existence. 

To these ideas they ascribed the most magnificent at- 
tributes. Of man, of a rose, of a circle, and of every spe- 



304 ABSTRACTION. 

cies of things, they believed that there is one idea or form 
which existed from eternity, before any individual of the 
species was formed ; that this idea is the exemplar or 
pattern according to which the Deity formed the individ- 
uals of the species ; that every individual of the species 
participates of this idea, which constitutes its essence; and 
that this idea is likewise an object of the human intellect, 
when, by due abstraction, we discern it to be one in all 
the individuals of the species. 

Thus the idea of every species, though one and immu- 
table, might be considered in three different views or re- 
spects ; first, as having an external existence before there 
was any individual of the species; secondly, as existing in 
every individual of that species, without division or multi- 
plication, and making the essence of the species; and, 
thirdly, as an object of intellect and of science in man. 

Such I take to be the doctrine of Plato, as far as I am 
able to comprehend it. His disciple, Aristotle, rejected 
the first of these views of ideas as visionary, but differed 
little from his master with regard to the last two. Pie did 
not admit the existence of universal natures antecedent to' 
the existence of individuals; but he held that every indi- 
vidual consists of matter and form; that the form (which 
I take to be what Plato calls the idea) is common to all 
the individuals of the species, and that the human intellect 
is fitted to receive the forms of things as objects of con- 
templation.* Such profound speculations about the nature 

* Different philosophers have maintained that Aristotle was a Real- 
ist, a Conceptualist, and a Nominalist, in the strictest sense. — H. 

" Now I venture to think that the interminable contest between Pla- 
tonist and Aristotelian, Realist and Nominalist, is, at bottom, not so 
much a question of what universals are, as of how they shall be treated; 
not so much a question of metaphysics as of method. Upon the nature 
of general notions there is a large amount of agreement between the 
parties : the Realist believes, with the Nominalist, that they are in the 
human mind, whilst, if the Nominalist believes at all that the world was 
created by design, he can scarcely escape from recognizing the Realist 
position, that such ideas as animal, right, motion, must have had their 
existence from the beginning in the creative mind. Aristotle might 
have owned that the universal notions in his mind might answer to cer- 
tain ideas in the Divine, whilst his illustrious master might have con- 
fessed that, putting revelation out of the question, there is no way to 
the absolute, — to knowledge of the ideas, — except a careful observation 
of, and reasoning from, the facts before our eyes." — Thomson's Laws 
of TiLought, 2d ed., p. 114 et seq. Compare Ravaisson, Metaplnjsique 
aVAristote. — Ed. 



REALISTS, NOMINALISTS, AND CONCEPTUALISTS. 305 

of universals we find even in the first ages of philosophy. 
I wish I could make them more intelligible to myself and 
to the reader. 

II. Rise of Nominalism and Conceptualising and their 
Modern Defenders.'] Near the beginning of the twelfth 
century, Roscelin, the master of the famous Abelard, in- 
troduced a new doctrine, — that there is nothing universal 
but words or names. For this and other heresies he was 
much persecuted. However, by his eloquence and abili- 
ties, and those of his disciple, Abelard, the doctrine 
spread, and those who followed it were called Nominal- 
ists.* His antagonists, who held that there are things 
that are really universal, were called Realists. The scho- 
lastic philosophers, from this time, were divided into these 
two sects. Some few took a middle road between the con- 
tending parties. That universality, which the Realists 
held to be in things themselves, Nominalists in names 
only, they held to be neither in things nor in names only, 
but in our conceptions. On this account they were called 
Conceptualists ; but, being exposed to the batteries of 
both the opposite parties, they made no great figure. f 

When the sect of Nominalists was like to expire, it re- 
ceived new life and spirit from Occam, the disciple of 
Scotus, in the fourteenth century. Then the dispute 
about universals, a parte rei, was revived with the greatest 
animosity in the schools of Britain, France, and Germany, 
and carried on, not by arguments only, but by bitter re- 
proaches, blows, and bloody affrays, until the doctrines of 
Luther and the other Reformers turned the attention of the 
learned world to more important subjects. 

After the revival of learning, Mr. Hobbes adopted the 
opinion of the Nominalists. J Human Nature, Chap. V. 

* Abelard was not a Nominalist, like Roscelin ; but held a doctrine 
intermediate between absolute Nominalism and Realism, corresponding 
to the opinion since called Conceptualism. A flood of light has been 
thrown upon Abelard's doctrines by M. Cousin's introduction to his 
recent publication of the unedited works of that illustrious thinker. — H. 

t The later Nominalists of the school of Occam were really Concept- 
ualists, in our sense of the term. — H. 

X Hobbes is justly said by Leibnitz to have been ij>sis JVominalibvs 
nominalior. They were really Conceptualists. — H. 

26* 



306 ABSTRACTION. 

Sect. 6: — " It is plain, therefore," says he, " that there 
is nothing universal but names." And in his Leviathan, 
Parti. Chap. IV., — "There being nothing universal 
but names, proper names bring to mind one thing only; 
universals recall any one of many." 

Mr. Locke, according to the division before mentioned, 
I think, may be accounted a Conceptualist. He does not 
maintain that there are things that are universal ; but that 
we have general or universal ideas which we form by ab- 
straction; and this power of forming abstract and general 
ideas he conceives to be that which makes the chief dis- 
tinction in point of understanding between men and brutes. 

Mr. Locke's doctrine about abstraction has been com- 
bated by two very powerful antagonists, — Bishop Berke- 
ley and Mr. Hume, — who have taken up the opinion of 
the Nominalists. The former thinks (Introduction to his 
Principles of Human Knowledge), "that the opinion, 
that the mind has a power of forming abstract ideas, or 
notion of things, has had a chief part in rendering specu- 
lation intricate and perplexed, and has occasioned innumer- 
able errors and difficulties in almost all parts of knowl- 
edge." To the same effect Mr. Hume, Treatise of 
Human Nature, Book I. Part I. Sect. 7 : — "A very 
material question has been started concerning abstract or 
general ideas, whether they be general or particular in the 
mind's conception of them ? A great philosopher [he 
means Dr. Berkeley] has disputed the received opinion in 
this particular, and has asserted that all general ideas are 
nothing but particular ones annexed to a certain term, 
which gives them a more extensive signification, and 
makes them recall, upon occasion, other individuals which 
are similar to them. As I look upon this to be one of 
the greatest and most valuable discoveries that have been 
made of late years in the republic of letters, I shall here 
endeavour to confirm it by some arguments, which I hope 
will put it beyond all doubt and controversy." 

I shall make an end of this subject with some reflec- 
tions on what has been said upon it by these two eminent 
philosophers. 

1. A triangle, in general, or any other universal, might 
be called an idea by a Platonist; but, in the style of mod- 



REALISTS, NOMINALISTS, AND CONCEPTUALISTS. 307 

ern philosophy, it is not an idea, nor do we ever ascribe 
to ideas the properties of triangles. It is never said of any 
idea, that it has three sides and three angles. We do not 
speak of equilateral, isosceles, or scalene ideas, nor of 
right-angled, acute-angled, or obtuse-angled ideas. And 
if these attributes do not belong to ideas, it follows neces- 
sarily that a triangle is not an idea. The same reasoning 
may be applied to every other universal. 

Ideas are said to have a real existence in the mind, at 
least, while we think of them; but universals have no real 
existence. When we ascribe existence to them, it is not 
an existence in time or place, but existence in some indi- 
vidual subject ; and this existence means no more than 
that they are truly attributes of such a subject. Their ex- 
istence is nothing but predicability, or the capacity of be- 
ing attributed to a subject. The name of predicables, 
which was given them in ancient philosophy, is that which 
most properly expresses their nature.* 

2. I think it must also be granted that universals cannot 
be the objects of imagination, when we take that word in 
its strict and proper sense. " I find," says Berkeley, 
" I have a faculty of imagining or representing to myself 
the ideas of those particular things I have perceived, and 

* Here M. Cousin makes a distinction and an exception : — " Let us 
consult the human mind and the truth of internal facts. It is an un- 
questionable fact, that, when you speak of book in general, you do not 
connect with the idea of book that of real existence. On the contrary, 
I ask if, when you speak of space in general, you do not add to this idea 
a belief in the reality of space? I ask if it is with space as with book; 
if you believe, for instance, that there are, without you, nothing but par- 
ticular spaces, — that there is not a universal space, capable of embracing 
all possible bodies, a space one and the same with itself, of which dif- 
ferent particular spaces are nothing but arbitrary portions and measures? 
It is certain that, when you speak of space, you have the conviction that 
out of yourself there is something which is space ; and also, when you 
speak of time, you have the conviction that there is out of yourself some- 
thing which is time, although you know neither the nature of time nor 
space. Different times and different spaces are not the constituent ele- 
ments of space and time ; time and space are not solely for you the col- 
lection of different times and different spaces. But you believe that 
time and space are in themselves; that it is not two or three spaces, 
two or three ages, which constitute space and time : for every thing 
derived from experience,«whether in respect to space or time, is finite, 
and the characteristic ofepace and of time for you is to be infinite, with- 
out beginning and without end. Time resolves itself into eternity, and 
space into immensity." — Elements of Psychology, Chap. V. — %d. 



30S ABSTRACTION. 

of variously compounding and dividing them. lean imag- 
ine a man with two heads, or the upper parts of a man 
joined to the body of a horse. I can imagine the hand, 
the eye, the nose, each by itself, abstracted or separated 
from the rest of the body. But then, whatever hand or 
eye I imagine, it must have some particular shape or color. 
Likewise, the idea of a man that I frame to myself must 
be either of a white, or a black, or a tawny, a straight or 
a crooked, a tall,* or a low, or a middle-sized man." 

I believe every man will find in himself what this inge- 
nious author found, — that he cannot imagine a man with- 
out color, or stature, or shape. Imagination, as we be- 
fore observed, properly signifies a conception of the ap- 
pearance an object would make to the eye if actually 
seen. A universal is not an object of any external sense, 
and therefore cannot be imagined ; but it may be dis- 
tinctly conceived. When Mr. Pope says, 

" The proper study of mankind is man," 

I conceive his meaning distinctly, though I neither imagine 
a black or a white, a crooked or a straight man. The 
distinction between conception and imagination is real, 
though it be too often overlooked, and the words taken to 
be synonymous. I can conceive a thing that is impossible, 
but I cannot distinctly imagine a thing that is impossible. 
I can conceive a proposition or a demonstration, but I 
cannot imagine either. I can conceive understanding and 
will, virtue and vice, and other attributes of mind, but I 
cannot imagine them. In like manner, I can distinctly 
conceive universals, but I cannot imagine them. 

3. Berkeley, in his reasoning against abstract general 
ideas, seems unwillingly or unwarily to grant all that is ne- 
cessary to support abstract and general conceptions. " A 
man," he says, "may consider a figure merely as trian- 
gular, without attending to the particular qualities of the 
angles or relations of the sides. So far he may abstract. 
But this will never prove that he can frame an abstract 
general inconsistent idea of a triangle." 

If a man may consider a figure metely as triangular, he 
must have some conception of this object of his con- 
sideration ; for no man can consider a thing which he 



REALISTS, NOMINALISTS, AND CONCEPTUALISTS. 809 

does not conceive. He has a conception, therefore, of a 
triangular figure, merely as such. 1 know no more that 
is meant by an abstract general conception of a triangle. 

He that considers a figure merely as triangular must 
understand what is meant by the word triangular. If to 
the conception he joins to this word, he adds any particu- 
lar quality of angles or relation of sides, he misunderstands 
it, and does not consider the figure merely as triangular. 
Whence I think it is evident that he who considers a fig- 
ure merely as triangular must have the conception of a 
triangle, abstracted from any quality of angles or relation 
of sides. 

4. Let us next consider the Bishop's notion of general- 
izing. He does not absolutely deny that there are gen- 
eral ideas, but only that there are abstract general ideas. 
" An idea," he says, " which, considered in itself, is 
particular, becomes general by being made to represent or 
stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort. To 
make this plain by an example, suppose a geometrician is 
demonstrating the method of cutting a line in two equal 
parts. He draws, for instance, a black line of an inch in 
length. This, which is in itself a particular line, is never- 
theless, with regard to its signification, general ; since, as 
it is there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever; 
so that what is demonstrated of it is demonstrated of all 
lines, or, in other words, of a line in general. And as 
that particular line becomes general by being made a sign, 
so the name line, which, taken absolutely, is particular, 
by being a sign is made general." 

Here I observe, that when a particular idea is made a 
sign to represent and stand for all of a sort, this supposes 
a distinction of things into sorts or species. To be of a 
sort, implies having those attributes which characterize the 
sort and are common to all the individuals that belong to 
it. There cannot, therefore, be a sort without general 
attributes, nor can there be any conception of a sort with- 
out a conception of those general attributes which dis- 
tinguish it. The conception of a sort, therefore, is an 
abstract general conception. The particular idea cannot 
surely be made a sign of a thing of which we have no con- 
ception. I do not say that you must have an idea of the 



310 ABSTRACTION. 

sort, but surely you ought to understand or conceive what 
it means, when you make a particular idea a representa- 
tive of it, otherwise your particular, idea represents you 
know not what. 

When I demonstrate any general property of a triangle, 
— such as that the three angles are equal to two right- 
angles, — I must understand or conceive distinctly what 
is common to all triangles. I must distinguish the com- 
mon attributes of all triangles from those wherein particu- 
lar triangles may differ. And if I conceive distinctly 
what is common to all triangles, without confounding it 
with what is not so, this is to form a general conception 
of a triangle. And without this, it is impossible to know 
that the demonstration extends to all triangles. 

The Bishop takes particular notice of this argument, and 
makes this answer to it : — " Though the idea I have in 
view, whilst I make the demonstration, be, for instance, 
that of an isosceles rectangular triangle, whose sides are 
of a determinate length, I may nevertheless be certain that 
it extends to all other rectilinear triangles, of what sort or 
bigness soever; and that because neither the right angle, 
nor the equality or determinate length of the sides, is at 
all concerned in the demonstration." 

But if he do not, in the idea he has in view, clearly 
distinguish what is common to all triangles from what is 
not, it would be impossible to discern whether something 
that is not common be concerned in the demonstration or 
not. In order, therefore, to perceive that the demonstra- 
tion extends to all triangles, it is necessary to have a dis- 
tinct conception of what is common to all triangles, ex- 
cluding from that conception all that is not common. And 
this is all I understand by an abstract general conception 
of a triangle. 

5. Having considered the opinions of Bishop Berkeley 
on this subject, let us next attend to those of Mr. Hume, 
as they are expressed, Part I. Sect. 7, Treatise of Hu- 
man Nature. Quantity or quality, according to him, is in- 
conceivable, without a precise notion of its degree; and on 
this ground, that it is impossible to distinguish things that 
are not actually separable. " The precise length of a 
line is not different or distinguishable from the line." 



REALISTS, NOMINALISTS, AND CONCEPTUALISTS. 311 

I have before endeavoured to show that things insepar- 
able in .their nature may be distinguished in, our concep- 
tion. And we need go no farther to be convinced of this 
than the instance here brought to prove the contrary. The 
precise length of a line, he says, is not distinguishable from 
the line. When I say, This is a line, I say and mean 
one thing. When I say, It is a line of three inches, I say 
and mean another thing. If this be not to distinguish the 
precise length of the line from the line, I know not what 
it is to distinguish. 

6. Mr. Hume endeavours to explain how it is that an 
individual idea, annexed to a general term, may serve all 
the purposes in reasoning which have been ascribed to 
abstract general ideas: — "When we have found a re- 
semblance among several objects that often # occur to us, 
we apply the same name to all of them, whatever differ- 
ences we may observe in the degrees of their quantity and 
quality, and whatever other differences may appear among 
them. After we have acquired a custom of this kind, the 
hearing of that name revives the idea of one of ihese ob- 
jects, and makes the imagination conceive it, with all its 
circumstances and proportions." 

He allows that we find a resemblance among several 
objects, and such a resemblance as leads us to apply the 
same name to all of them. This concession is sufficient 
to show that we have general conceptions. There can be 
no resemblance in objects that have no common attribute ; 
and if there be attributes belonging in common to several 
objects, and in man a faculty to observe and conceive 
these and to give names to them, this is to have general 
conceptions. 

7. The author says, — " It is certain that we form the 
idea of individuals whenever we use any general term. 
The word raises up an individual idea, and makes the im- 
agination conceive it, with all its particular circumstances 
and proportions." 

This fact he takes a great deal of pains to account for 
from the effect of custom. But the fact should be ascer- 
tained before we take pains to account for it. I can see 
no reason to believe the fact ; and I think a farmer can 
talk of his sheep and his black cattle without conceiving 



312 ABSTRACTION. 

in his imagination one individual, with all its circumstances 
and proportions. If this be true, the whole of his theory 
of general ideas falls to the ground. To me it appears 
that, when a general term is well understood, it is only by 
accident if it suggest some individual of the kind ; but this 
effect is by no means constant. 

I perfectly understand what mathematicians call a line 
of the fifth order; yet I never conceived in my imagina- 
tion any one of the kind, in all its circumstances and pro- 
portions. Sir Isaac Newton first formed a distinct general 
conception of lines of the third order ; and afterwards, by 
great labor and deep penetration, found out and described 
the particular species comprehended under that general 
term. According to Mr. Hume's theory, he must first 
have been acquainted with the particulars, and then have 
learned by custom to apply one general name to all of 
them.* 



* The whole controversy of Nominalism and Conceptualism is 
founded on the ambiguity of the terms employed. The opposite par- 
ties are substantially at one. Had our British philosophers been aware 
of the Leibnitzian distinction of intuitive and symbolical knowledge, 
and had we, like the Germans, different terms, like Begriff and An- 
schauung, to denote different kinds of thought, there would have been 
as little difference of opinion in regard to the nature of general notions 
in this country as in the Empire. With us, idea, notion, conception, 
&c, are confounded, or applied by different philosophers in different 
senses. 

I must put the reader on his guard against Dr. Thomas Brown's 
speculations on this subject. His own doctrine of universals, in so far 
as it is peculiar, is self-contradictory ; and nothing can be more erro- 
neous than his statement of the doctrine held by others, especially by 
the Nominalists. — H. 

For a full account of this famous controversy, see the general histo- 
rians of philosophy, particularly Brucker and Tennemann. Also, 
Rousselot, Etudes sur la Philosophic dans le Moyen-Age, Tome I. 
p. 126 et seq.; Remusat, Abelard, Tome I. p. 313 et seq., and Tome II. 
p. 1 et seq. ; and, above all, the brilliant Preface by Cousin to his Ou- 
vrages inedits d' Abelard, referred to in a former note. Of English works, 
besides those already mentioned, the following are proper to be con- 
sulted : — Stewart's Elements, Part I. Chap. IV. ; R. £. Scott's Intellect- 
ual Philosophy, Chap. IV. Sect. 2; Brown's Philosophy of the Human 
Mind, Lect. XLVI., XLVII. ; Hazlitt s Essays on the Principles of Hu- 
man Action, on the Systems of Hartley and Helvetius, and on Abstract 
Ideas; and Hampden's Scholastic Philosophy considered in Relation to 
Christian Theology, Lecture II., and Notes. — Ed. 



ESSAY VI. 

OF JUDGMENT. 
C II APTER I. 

OF JUDGMENT IN GENERAL. 

I. Definition of the Term.'] The definition common- 
ly given of judgment, by the more ancient writers in log- 
ic, was, that it is an act of the mind, lohereby one thing is 
affirmed or denied of another. I believe this is as good a 
definition of it as can be given. Why I prefer it to some 
later definitions, will afterwards appear. Without pre- 
tending to give any other, I shall make two remarks upon 
it, and then offer some general observations on this sub- 
ject. _ 

It is true, that it is by affirmation or denial that we ex- 
press our judgments ; but there may be judgment which 
is not expressed. It is a solitary act of the mind, and 
the expression of it by affirmation or denial is not at all es- 
sential to it. It may be tacit, and not expressed. Nay, 
it is well known that men may judge contrary to what they 
affirm or deny ; the definition, therefore, must be under- 
stood of mental affirmation or denial, which indeed is only 
another name for judgment. 

Affirmation and denial is very often the expression of 
testimony, which is a different act of the mind, and ought 
to be distinguished from judgment. A judge asks of a 
witness what he knows of such a matter to which he was 
an eye or ear witness. He answers by affirming or de- 
nying something. But his answer does not express his 
judgment ; it is his testimony. Again, I ask a man his 
opinion in a matter of science or of criticism. His an- 
27 



314 JUDGMENT. 

swer is not testimony ; it is the expression of his judg- 
ment. Testimony is a social act, and it is essential to it 
to be expressed by words or signs. A tacit testimony is a 
contradiction : but there is no contradiction in a tacit judg- 
ment ; it is complete without being expressed. In testi- 
mony, a man pledges his veracity for what he affirms ; so 
that a false testimony is a lie : but a wrong judgment is 
not a lie ; it is only an error. 

I believe, in all languages, testimony and judgment are 
expressed by the same form of speech. A proposition 
affirmative or negative, with a verb in what is called the 
indicative mood, expresses both. To distinguish them 
by the form of speech, it would be necessary that verbs 
should have two indicative moods, one for testimony, and 
another to express judgment. I know not that this is 
found in any language. And the reason is, not surely 
that the vulgar cannot distinguish the two, (for every man 
knows the difference between a lie and an error of judg- 
ment,) but that, from the matter and circumstances, we 
can easily see whether a man intends to give his testimo- 
ny, or barely to express his judgment. 

Although men must have judged in many cases before tri- 
bunals of justice were erected, yet it is very probable that 
there were tribunals before men began to speculate about 
judgment, and that the word may be borrowed from the 
practice of tribunals. As a judge, after taking the proper 
evidence, passes sentence in a cause, and that sentence is 
called his judgment, so the mind, with regard to what- 
ever is true or false, passes sentence, or determines ac- 
cording to the evidence that appears. Some kinds of 
evidence leave no room for doubt. Sentence is passed 
immediately, without seeking or hearing any contrary evi- 
dence, because the thing is certain and notorious. In 
other cases, there is room for weighing evidence on both 
sides before sentence is passed. The analogy between a 
tribunal of justice and this inward tribunal of the mind is 
too obvious to escape the notice of any man who ever ap- 
peared before a judge. And it is probable that the word 
judgment, as well as many other words we use in speaking 
of this operation of mind, is grounded on this analogy. 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 315 

II. Observations respecting the Nature and Province 
of Judgment. 1 Having premised these things, that it may 
be clearly understood what I mean by judgment, I pro- 
ceed to make some general observations concerning it. 

First, judgment is an act of the mind specifically differ- 
ent from simple apprehension, or the bare conception of a 
thing. It would be unnecessary to observe this, if some 
philosophers had not been led by their theories to a con- 
trary opinion. Although there can be no judgment with- 
out a conception of the things about which we judge, yet 
conception may be without any judgment.* Judgment 
can be expressed by a proposition only, and a proposition 
is a complete sentence ; but simple apprehension may be 
expressed by a word or words which make no complete 
sentence. When simple apprehension is employed about 
a proposition, every man knows that it is one thing to ap- 
prehend a proposition, that is, to conceive what it means ; 
but it is quite another thing to judge it to be true or false. 

Secondly, there are notions or ideas that ought to be re- 
ferred to the faculty of judgment as their source; because, 
if we had not that faculty, they could not enter into our 
minds ; and to those that have that faculty, and are capa- 
ble of reflecting upon its operations, they are obvious and 
familiar. 

Among these we may reckon the notion of judgment it- 
self; the notions of a proposition, of its subject, predicate, 
and copula ; of affirmation and negation, of true and false, 
of knowledge, belief, disbelief, opinion, assent, evidence. 
From no source could we acquire these notions, but from 
reflecting upon our judgments. Relations of things make 
one great class of our notions or ideas ; and we cannot 
have the idea of any relation without some exercise of 
judgment, as will appear afterwards. 

Thirdly, in persons come to years of understanding, 
judgment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception 
by the senses, consciousness, and memory. 

* There is no conception possible without a judgment affirming its 
(ideal) existence, its subjective reality, — an existential judgment. Ap- 
prehension is as impossible without judgment, as judgment is impossible 
without apprehension. The apprehension of a thing, or notion, is only 
realized in the mental affirmation that the concept ideally exists, and 
this affirmation is a judgment. In fact, all consciousness supposes a 
judgment, as all consciousness supposes a discrimination. — H. 



316 JUDGMENT. 

I restrict this to persons come to the years of under- 
standing, because it may be a question, whether infants, 
in the-first period of life, have any judgment or belief at 
all. The same question may be put with regard to brutes 
and some idiots. This question is foreign to the present 
subject ; and I say nothing here about it, but speak only 
of persons who have the exercise of judgment. In them 
it is evident, that a man who feels pain judges and be- 
lieves that he is really pained. The man who perceives 
an object believes that it exists, and is what he distinctly 
perceives it to be ; nor is it in his power to avoid such 
judgment. And the like may be said of memory, and of 
consciousness. 

Whether judgment ought to be called a necessary con- 
comitant of these operations, or rather a part or ingre- 
dient of them, I do not dispute ; but it is certain, that all of 
them are accompanied with a determination that something 
is true or false, and a consequent belief. If this determi- 
nation be not judgment, it is an operation that has got no 
name ; for it is not simple apprehension, neither is it rea- 
soning ; it is a mental affirmation or negation ; it may be 
expressed by a proposition affirmative or negative, and it 
is accompanied with the firmest belief. These are the 
characteristics of judgment ; and 1 must call it judgment, 
till I can find another name for it. 

The judgments we form are either of things necessary, 
or of things contingent. 

That three times three are nine, that the whole is great- 
er than a part, are judgments about things necessary. 
Our assent to such necessary propositions is not grounded 
upon any operation of sense, of memory, or of conscious- 
ness, nor does it require their concurrence ; it is unac- 
companied by any other operation than that of conception, 
which must accompany all judgment ; we may therefore 
call this judgment of things necessary, pure judgment. 

Our judgment of things contingent must always rest up- 
on some other operation of the mind, such as sense, or 
memory, or consciousness, or credit in testimony, which 
is itself grounded upon sense. That I now write upon a 
table covered with green cloth, is a contingent event, 
which I judge to be most undoubtedly true. My judg- 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 317 

raent is grounded upon my perception, and is a necessary 
concomitant or ingredient of my perception. That I 
dined with such a company yesterday, I judge to be true, 
because I remember it ; and my judgment necessarily goes 
along with this remembrance, or makes a part of it. 

There are many forms of speech in common language 
which show that the senses, memory, and consciousness 
are considered as judging faculties. We say that a man 
judges of colors by his eye, of sounds by his ear. We 
speak of the evidence of sense, the evidence of memory, 
the evidence of consciousness. But evidence is the 
ground of judgment, and when we see evidence, it is im- 
possible not to judge. 

When we speak of seeing or remembering any thing, 
we indeed hardly ever add, that we judge it to be true. 
But the reason of this appears to be, that such addition 
would be mere superfluity of speech, because every one 
knows that what I see or remember I must judge to be 
true, and cannot do otherwise. And for the same reason, 
in speaking of any thing that is self-evident or strictly 
demonstrated, we do not say that we judge it to be true. 
This would be superfluity of speech, because every man 
knows that we must judge that to be true which we hold 
self-evident or demonstrated. 

There is therefore good reason why, in speaking or 
writing, judgment should not be expressly mentioned, 
when all men know it to be necessarily implied ; that is, 
when there can be no doubt. In such cases, we barely 
mention the evidence. But when the evidence mentioned 
leaves room for doubt, then, without any superfluity or 
tautology, we say we judge the thing to be so, because 
this is not implied in what was said before. A woman 
with child never says, that, going such a journey, she car- 
ried her child along with her. We know that, while it is 
in her womb, she must carry it along with her. There 
are some operations of mind that may be said to carry 
judgment in their womb, and can no more leave it behind 
them than the pregnant woman can leave her child. 
Therefore, in speaking of such operations, it is not ex- 
pressed. 

Our judgments of this kind are purely the gift of nature, 
27* 



318 JUDGMENT. 

nor do they admit of improvement by culture. The 
memory of one man may be more tenacious than that of 
another ; but both rely with equal assurance upon what 
they distinctly remember. One man's sight may be more 
acute, or his feeling more delicate, than that of another ; 
but both give equal credit to the distinct testimony of their 
sight and touch. And as we have this belief by the con- 
stitution of our nature, without any effort of our own, so 
no effort of ours can overturn it. The skeptic may per- 
haps persuade himself in general, that he has no ground to 
believe his senses or his memory : but, in particular cases 
that are interesting, his disbelief vanishes, and he finds 
himself under a necessity of believing both. 

These judgments may, in the strictest sense, be called 
judgments of nature. Nature has subjected us to them 
whether we will or not. They are neither got, nor can 
they be lost, by any use or abuse of our faculties ; and it 
is evidently necessary to our preservation that it should be 
so. For if belief in our senses and in our memory were 
to be learned by culture, the race of men would perish be- 
fore they learned this lesson. It is necessary to all men 
for their being and preservation, and therefore is uncondi- 
tionally given to all men by the Author of nature. 

A fourth observation is, that some exercise of judg- 
ment is necessary in the formation of all abstract and gen- 
eral conceptions, whether more simple or more complex ; 
in dividing, in defining, and, in general, in forming all 
clear and distinct conceptions of things, which are the 
only fit materials of reasoning. 

These operations are allied to each other, and therefore 
I bring them under one observation. They are more al- 
lied to our rational nature than those mentioned in the last 
observation, and therefore are considered by themselves. 

It is impossible to distinguish the different attributes be- 
longing to the same subject, without judging that they are 
really different and distinguishable, and that they have that 
relation to the subject which logicians express by saying 
that they may be predicated of it. We cannot generalize, 
without judging that the same attribute does or may be- 
long to many individuals. It has been shown, that our 
simplest general notions are formed by these two opera- 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 319 

tions of distinguishing and generalizing ; judgment there- 
fore is exercised in forming the simplest general notions. 
In those that are more complex, and which have been 
shown to be formed by combining the more simple, there 
is another act of the judgment required ; for such combi- 
nations are not made at random, but for an end ; and judg- 
ment is employed in fitting them to that end. We form 
complex general notions for conveniency of arranging our 
thoughts in discourse and reasoning ; and therefore, of an 
infinite number of combinations that might be formed, we 
choose only those that are useful and necessary. 

That judgment must be employed in dividing as well 
as in distinguishing, appears evident. It is one thing to 
divide a subject properly, another to cut it in pieces. 
Hoc non est dividere, sed f rang ere rem, said Cicero, when 
he censured an improper division of Epicurus. Reason 
has discovered rules of division, which have been known 
to logicians more than two thousand years. 

There are rules likewise of definition of no less antiqui- 
ty and authority. A man may no doubt divide or define 
properly without attending to the rules, or even without 
knowing them. But this can only be, when he has judg- 
ment to perceive that to be right in a particular case, 
which the rule determines to be right in all cases. 

I add in general, that, without some degree of judgment, 
we can form no accurate and distinct notions of things ; 
so that one province of judgment is, to aid us in forming 
clear and distinct conceptions of things, which are the on- 
ly fit materials for reasoning. 

This will probably appear to be a paradox to philoso- 
phers who have always considered the formation of ideas 
of every kind as belonging to simple apprehension ; and 
that the sole province of judgment is to put them together 
in affirmative or negative propositions : and therefore it 
requires some confirmation. 

1. I think it necessarily follows, from what has been 
already said in this observation. For if, without some de- 
gree of judgment, a man can neither distinguish, nor di- 
vide, nor define, nor form any general notion, simple or 
complex, he surely, without some degree of judgment, 
cannot have in his mind the materials necessary to reason- 
ing. 



320 JUDGMENT. 

There cannot be any proposition in language which 
does not involve some general conception. The propo- 
sition, that / exist, which Descartes thought the first of 
all truths, and the foundation of all knowledge, cannot be 
conceived without the conception of existence, one of the 
most abstract general conceptions. 

A man cannot believe his own existence, or the exist- 
ence of any thing he sees or remembers, until he has so 
much judgment as to distinguish things that really exist 
from things which are only conceived. He sees a man 
six feet high ; he conceives a man sixty feet high ; he 
judges the first object to exist, because he sees it ; the 
second he does not judge to exist, because he only con- 
ceives it. Now, I would ask, whether he can attribute 
existence to the first object, and not to the second, with- 
out knowing what existence means ? It is impossible. 

In every other proposition, the predicate at least must 
be a general notion, a predicable and a universal being 
one and the same. Besides this, every proposition either 
affirms or denies. And no man can have a distinct con- 
ception of a proposition, who does not understand distinct- 
ly the meaning of affirming or denying : but these are 
very general conceptions, and, as was before observed, 
are derived from judgment, as their source and origin. 

I am sensible that a strong objection may be made to 
this reasoning, and that it may seem to lead to an absurd- 
ity, or a contradiction. It may be said, that every judg- 
ment is a mental affirmation or negation. If, therefore, 
some previous exercise of judgment be necessary to un- 
derstand what is meant by affirmation or negation, the ex- 
ercise of judgment must go before any judgment, which is 
absurd. In like manner, every judgment may be ex- 
pressed by a proposition, and a proposition must be con- 
ceived before we can judge of it. If, therefore, we cannot 
conceive the meaning of a proposition without a previous 
exercise of judgment, it follows that judgment must be 
previous to the conception of any proposition, and at the 
same time that the conception of a proposition must be 
previous to all judgment, which is a contradiction. 

The reader may please to observe, that I have limited 
what I have said to " distinct conception," and "some 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 321 

degree of judgment "; and it is by this means I hope to 
avoid this labyrinth of absurdity and contradiction. The 
faculties of conception and judgment have an infancy and 
a maturity, as man has. What I have said is limited to 
their mature state. I believe in their infant state they are 
very weak and indistinct ; and that, by imperceptible de- 
grees, they grow to maturity, each giving aid to the other, 
and receiving aid from it. But which of them first began 
this friendly intercourse, is beyond my ability to deter- 
mine. It is like the question concerning the bird and the 
egg. In the present state of things, it is true that every 
bird comes from an egg, and every egg from a bird ; and 
each may be said to be previous to the other. But if we 
go back to the origin of things, there must have been some 
bird that did not come from an egg, or some egg that did 
not come from any bird. 

In like manner, in the mature state of man, distinct 
conception of a proposition supposes some previous exer- 
cise of judgment, and distinct judgment supposes distinct 
conception. Each may truly be said to come from the 
other, as the bird from the egg, and the egg from the bird. 
But if we trace back this succession to its origin, — that 
is, to the first proposition that was ever conceived by the 
man, and the first judgment he ever formed, — I deter- 
mine nothing about them, nor do I know in what order, or 
how, they were produced.* 

* On the manner in which the human intellect begins to develop it- 
self, M. Cousin expresses himself thus: — "Primitively nothing is ab- 
stract, nothing is general ; every thing is particular, every thing is con- 
crete. The understanding does not begin with these formulas: There 
is no modification without its svl/ject ; There is no body without space. 
But a modification being given, it conceives a particular subject of this 
modification; a body being given, it conceives that this body is in a 
space ; a particular succession being given, it conceives that this partic- 
ular succession is in a determinate time. It is so with all our primitive 
conceptions; they are all particular, determined, concrete. Our prim- 
itive conceptions, moreover, present two distinct characteristics ; some 
are contingent, others are necessary. Under the eye of consciousness 
there may be a sensation of pleasure or of pain, which I perceive as ac- 
tually existing; but this sensation may vary, change, disappear. From 
hence very soon may arise the conviction, that this sensible phenome- 
non which I notice is indeed real, but that it may exist or may not ex- 
ist, and therefore I may feel it or not feel it. This is a character- 
istic which philosophers have designated as contingent. But when I 
conceive that a body is in space, if I endeavour to conceive the con- 



322 JUDGMENT. 

The necessity of some degree of judgment to clear and 
distinct conceptions of things, may, I think, be illustrated 
by this similitude. An artisan, suppose a carpenter, can- 
not work in his art without tools, and these tools must be 
made by art. The exercise of the art, therefore, is ne- 
cessary to make the tools, and the tools are necessary to 
the exercise of the art. There is the same appearance 
of contradiction as in what I have advanced concerning 
the necessity of some degree of judgment in order to form 
clear and distinct conceptions of things. These are the 
tools we must use in judging and in reasoning, and without 
them must make very bungling work ; yet these tools can- 
not be made without some exercise of judgment. 

2. The necessity of some degree of judgment in forming 

trary — that a body may be without space — I cannot succeed. This 
conception of space is a conception which philosophers have designated 
by the term necessary. 

" But whence do all our conceptions, contingent or necessary, 
come? From the faculty of conceiving, which is in us, by whatever 
name you call this faculty of which we are all conscious, — mind, rea- 
son, -thought, understanding, or intelligence. The operations of this 
faculty, our conceptions, are essentially affirmative, — if not orally, yet 
mentally. To deny, even, is to affirm ; for it is to affirm the contrary 
of what had been first affirmed. To doubt, also, is to affirm; for it is 
to affirm uncertainty. Besides, we evidently do not commence by 
doubt or negation, but by affirmation. Now to affirm, in any way, is to 
judge. If, then, every intellectual operation resolves itself into an 
operation of judgment, all our conceptions, whether contingent or ne- 
cessary, resolve themselves into judgments contingent or necessary; 
and all onr primitive operations being concrete and synthetic, it follows 
that all the primitive judgments, supposed by these operations, are also 
exercised under this form. 

" When the mind translates itself into language, the primary expres- 
sions of its judgments are, like the judgments themselves, concrete and 
synthetic. Faithful images of the development of the mind, languages 
begin, not by words, but by phrases, by propositions very complex. A 
primitive proposition is a whole, corresponding to the natural synthesis 
by which the mind begins. These primitive propositions are by no 
means abstract propositions, such as these : — There is no quality without 
a subject ; There is no body without space containing it ; and the like: 
but they are all particular, such as, — / exist; This body exists ; Such a 
body is in that space ; God exists. These propositions are such as refer 
to a particular and determinate object, which is either self, or body, or 
God. But after having expressed its primitive, concrete, and synthetic 
propositions, the mind operates upon these judgments by abstraction; 
it neglects that which is concrete in them to consider only the form of 
them, — for example, the character of necessity with which many of 
them are invested, and which, when disengaged and developed, gives, 
instead of the concrete propositions, / exist ; These bodies are in such a 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 323 

accurate and distinct notions of things will further appear, 
if we consider attentively what notions we can form with- 
out any aid of judgment, (1 .) of the objects of sense, (2.) 
of the operations of our own minds, or (3.) of the relations 
of things. 

(1.) To begin with the objects of sense. It is acknowl- 
edged on all hands, that the first notions we have of sen- 
sible objects- are got by the external senses only, and 
probably before judgment is brought forth ; but these first 
notions are neither simple, nor are they accurate and dis- 
tinct, — rudis indigestaque moles. Before we can have 
any distinct notion of this mass, it must be analyzed ; the 
heterogeneous parts must be separated in our conception, 
and the simple elements, which before lay hid in the com- 
mon mass, must first be distinguished, and then put to- 

space, &c, the abstract propositions, — There can be no modification 
without a subject; There can be no body without space; There can be no 
succession xoitliout time, &c. The general was at first enveloped in the 
particular; then, from the complexity of the primitive fact, you disen- 
gage the general from the particular and you express it by itself. 

" We do not begin by propositions, but by judgments ; the judgments 
do not come from the propositions, but the propositions come from the 
judgments, which themselves come from the faculty of judging, which 
is grounded in the original capacity of the mind. Jl fortiori, then, we 
do not begin by ideas; for ideas are given us in the propositions. Take, 
for example, the idea of space. It is not given us by itself, but in this 
complete proposition, There is no body without space, which proposition 
is only a form of a judgment. Take away the proposition, which could 
not be made without the judgment, and you have not the ideas; but as 
soon as language permits you to translate your judgments into proposi- 
tions, then you can consider separately the different elements of these 
propositions, that is to say, ideas, separately from each other. 

"To speak strictly, there are in nature no propositions, neither con- 
crete nor abstract, particular nor general, and still less are there ideas in 
nature. What is there in nature? Besides bodies there is nothing ex- 
cept minds, and among these, that which is ourselves, which conceives 
and knows directly things, — minds and bodies. And in the order of 
minds what is there innate? Nothing but the mind itself, the under- 
standing, the faculty of knowing. The understanding, as Leibnitz has 
profoundly said, is innate to itself : the development of the understand- 
ing is equally innate, in this sense, that it cannot but take place when the 
understanding is once given, with the power which is proper to it, and 
the conditions of its development supplied. There are no innate ideas, 
any more than innate propositions; but there is a capacity, faculty, or 
power, innate in the understanding, that acts and projects itself in 
primitive judgments, which, when language comes in, express them- 
selves in propositions, and these propositions, decomposed by abstrac- 
tion and analysis, engender distinct ideas." — Elements of Psychology, 
Chap. VII. — Ed. 



324 JUDGMENT. 

gether into one whole. In this way it is that we form 
distinct notions even of the objects of sense ; but this 
analysis and composition, by habit, becomes so easy and 
is performed so readily, that we are apt to overlook it, and 
to impute the distinct notion we have formed of the object 
to the senses alone ; and this we are the more prone to 
do, because, when once we have distinguished the sensi- 
ble qualities of the object from one another, the sense 
gives testimony to each of them. 

You perceive, for instance, an object white, round, and 
a foot in diameter : I grant that you perceive all these at- 
tributes of the object by sense ; but if you had not been 
able to distinguish the color from the figure, and both from 
the magnitude, your senses would only have given you one 
complex and confused notion of all these mingled together. 
A man who is able to say with understanding, or to deter- 
mine in his own mind, that this object is white, must have 
distinguished whiteness from other attributes. If he has 
not made this distinction, he does not understand what 
he says. 

Suppose a cube of brass to be presented at the same 
time to a child of a year old and to a man. The regular- 
ity of the figure will attract the attention of both. Both 
have the senses of sight and of touch in equal perfec- 
tion ; and therefore, if any thing be discovered in this ob- 
ject by the man which cannot be discovered by the child, 
it must be owing, not to the senses, but to some other fa- 
culty which the child has not yet attained. First, then, 
the man can easily distinguish the body from the surface 
which terminates it ; this the child cannot do. Secondly, 
the man can perceive that this surface is made up of six 
planes of the same figure and magnitude ; the child cannot 
discover this. Thirdly, the man perceives that each of 
these planes has four equal sides and four equal angles, 
and that the opposite sides of each plane, and the opposite 
planes, are parallel. 

It will surely be allowed that a man of ordinary judg- 
ment may observe all this in a cube which he makes an 
object of contemplation and takes time to consider; that 
he may give the name of a square to a plane terminated 
by four equal sides and four equal angles, and the name 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 325 

of a cube to a solid terminated by six equal squares; all 
this is nothing else but analyzing the figure of the object 
presented to his senses into its simplest elements, and 
again compounding it of those elements. By this analysis 
and composition two effects are produced. 1. From the 
one complex object which his senses presented, though 
one of the most simple the senses can present, he educes 
many simple and distinct notions of right lines, angles, 
plain surface, solid, equality., parallelism ; notions which 
the child has not yet faculties to attain. 2. When he 
considers the cube as compounded of these elements, put 
together in a certain order, he has then, and not before, 
a distinct and scientific notion of a cube. The child 
neither conceives those elements, nor in what order they 
must be put together, so as to make a perfect cube ; and,, 
therefore, has no accurate notion of a cube, which can 
make it a subject of reasoning. 

Hence it is, that when any vehement passion or emo- 
tion hinders the cool application of judgment, we get no 
distinct notion of an object, even though the sense be long 
directed to it. A man who is put into a panic by think- 
ing he sees a ghost, may stare at it long without having 
any distinct notion of it ; it is his understanding and not his 
sense that is disturbed by his horror. If he can lay that 
aside, judgment immediately enters upon its office, and 
examines the length and breadth, the color and figure and 
distance of the object. Of these, while his panic lasted, 
he had no distinct notion, though his eyes were open all 
the time. When the eye of sense is open, but that of 
judgment shut by a panic, or by any violent emotion that 
engrosses the mind, we see things confusedly ^ and proba- 
bly much in the same manner that brutes and perfect idiots 
do, and infants before the use of judgment. 

There are, therefore, notions of the objects of sense 
which are gross and indistinct, and there are others that 
are distinct and scientific. The former may be got from 
the senses alone, but the latter cannot be obtained with- 
out some degree of judgment. 

The clear and accurate notions which geometry pre- 
sents to us of a point, a right line, an angle, a square, a 
circle, of ratios direct and inverse, and others of that kind, 
28 



326 JUDGMENT. 

can find no admittance into a mind that has not some de- 
gree of judgment. They are not properly ideas of the 
senses, nor are they got by compounding ideas of the 
senses; but by analyzing the ideas or notions we get by 
the senses into their simplest elements, and again com- 
bining these elements into various, accurate, and elegant 
forms, which the senses never did nor can exhibit. 

(2.) Having said so much of the notions we get from the 
senses alone of the objects of sense, let us next con- 
sider what notions we can have from consciousness alone 
of the operations of our minds. 

Mr. Locke very properly calls consciousness an inter- 
nal sense. It gives the like immediate knowledge of 
things in the mind, that is, of our own thoughts and feel- 
ings, as the senses give us of things external. There is 
this difference, however, that an external object may be 
at rest, and the sense may be employed about it for some 
time. But the objects of consciousness are never at rest ; 
the stream of thought flows like a river, without stopping 
a moment ; the whole train of thought passes in succes- 
sion under the eye of consciousness, which is always em- 
ployed about the present. But is it consciousness that 
analyzes complex operations, distinguishes their different 
ingredients, and combines them in distinct parcels under 
general names ? This surely is not the work of con- 
sciousness, nor can it be performed without reflection, rec- 
ollecting and judging of what we were conscious of and 
distinctly remember. This reflection does not appear in 
children. Of all the powers of the mind, it seems to be 
of the latest growth, whereas consciousness is coeval with 
the earliest. 

Mr. Locke has restricted the word reflection to that 
which is employed about the operations of our minds, 
without any authority, as I think, from custom, the arbiter 
of language ; for surely I may reflect upon what I have 
seen or heard, as well as upon what I have thought. The 
word, in its proper and common meaning, is equally appli- 
cable to objects of sense and to objects of consciousness.* 

* Here, as before, Reid errs in what he says of reflection. Conscious- 
ness and reflection cannot be analyzed into different powers. Reflec- 
tion, in Locke's meaning of the word (and this is the more correct), is 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 327 

He has likewise confounded reflection with consciousness, 
and seems not to have been aware that they are different 
powers, and appear at very different periods of life. 

(3.) I proposed, in the third place, to consider our no- 
tions of the relations of things : and here I think, that, 
without judgment, we cannot have any notion of relations. 

There are two ways in which we get the notion of re- 
lations. 

The first is, by comparing the related objects, when we 
have before had the conception of both. By this compari- 
son, we perceive the relation, either immediately, or by a 
process of reasoning. That my foot is longer than my 
finger, I perceive immediately ; and that three is the half 
of six. This immediate perception is immediate and in- 
tuitive judgment. That the angles at the base of an isos- 
celes triangle are equal, I perceive by a process of reason- 
ing, in which it will be acknowledged there is judgment. 

Another way in which we get the notion of relations 
(which seems not to have occurred to Mr. Locke) is, 
when, by attention to one of the related objects, we per- 
ceive or judge that it must, from its nature, have a cer- 
tain relation to something else, which before, perhaps, we 
never thought of; and thus our attention to one of the re- 
lated objects produces the notion of a correlate, and of a 
certain relation between them. Thus, when I attend to 
color, figure, weight, I cannot help judging these to be 
qualities which cannot exist without a subject ; that is, 
something which is colored, figured, heavy. If I had not 
perceived such things to be qualities, I should never have 
had any notion of their subject, or of their relation to it. 
Also, by attending to the operations of thinking, memory, 
reasoning, we perceive or judge that there must be some- 
thing which thinks, remembers, and reasons, which we 
call the mind. When we attend to any change that hap- 
pens in nature, judgment informs us that there must be a 
cause of this change, which had power to produce it ; and 
thus we get the notions of cause and effect, and of the re- 
lation between them. When we attend to body, we per- 

only consciousness, concentrated by an act of the will on the phenomena, of 
mind, — i. e., internal attention; in R.eid's, what is it but attention in gen- 
eral? — H. 



328 JUDGMENT. 

ceive that it cannot exist without space ; hence we get the 
notion of space (which is neither an object of sense nor 
of consciousness), and of the relation which bodies have 
to a certain portion of unlimited space, as their place. 

I apprehend, therefore, that all our notions of relations 
may more properly be ascribed to judgment as their 
source and origin, than to any other power of the mind. 
We must first perceive relations by our judgment, before 
we can conceive them without judging of them ; as we 
must first perceive colors by sight, before we can con- 
ceive them without seeing them. 

III. Locke's Distinction behoeen Knowledge and Judg- 
ment rejected.^ I take it to be a peculiarity of Mr. 
Locke, that he makes knowledge and judgment distinct 
faculties of the mind. His words are (Essay, Book IV. 
Chap. XIV. §§ 3, 4) : — " The faculty which God has given 
to man to supply the want of clear and certain knowledge, 
where that cannot be had, is judgment ; whereby the mind 
takes its ideas to agree or disagree, or, which is the same, 
any proposition to be true or false, without perceiving a 
demonstrative evidence in the proofs. Thus, the mind 
has two faculties, conversant about truth and falsehood. 
First, Knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is 
undoubtedly satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of 
any ideas. Secondly, Judgment, which is the putting 
ideas together, or separating them from one another in the 
mind, when their certain agreement or disagreement is not 
perceived, but presumed to be so." 

Knowledge, I think, sometimes signifies things known ; 
sometimes that act of the mind by which we know them. 
And in like manner opinion sometimes signifies things be- 
lieved ; sometimes the act of the mind by which we be- 
lieve them. But judgment is the faculty which is exer- 
cised in both these acts of the mind. In knowledge, we 
judge without doubting ; in opinion, with some mixture of 
doubt. But I know no authority, besides that of Mr. 
Locke, for calling knowledge a faculty, any more than 
for calling opinion a faculty. Neither do I think that 
knowledge is confined within the narrow limits which Mr. 
Locke assigns to it ; because the far greater part of what 



ITS NATURE AND PROVINCE. 329 

all men call human knowledge is in things which neither 
admit of intuitive nor of demonstrative proof. 

I have all along used the word judgment in a more ex- 
tended sense than Mr. Locke does in the passage above 
mentioned. I understand by it that operation of mind by 
which we determine, concerning any thing that may be 
expressed by a proposition, whether it be true or false. 
Every proposition is either true or false ; so is every judg- 
ment. A proposition may be simply conceived without 
judging of it. But when there is not only a conception of 
the proposition, but a mental affirmation or negation, an 
assent or dissent of the understanding, whether weak or 
strong, that is judgment. 

I think that, since the days of Aristotle, logicians, and 
other writers, for the most part, have taken the word in 
this sense, though it has other meanings, which there is 
no danger of confounding with this. We may take the 
authority of Dr. Watts, as a logician, as a man who un- 
derstood English, and who had a just esteem of Mr. 
Locke's Essay. Logic, Introduction: — "Judgment is 
that operation of the mind, wherein we join two or more 
ideas together by one affirmation or negation : that is, we 
either affirm or deny this to be that. So this tree is high ; 
that horse is not swift ; the mind of man is a thinking be- 
ing ; mere matter has no thought belonging to it ; God is 
just ; good men are often miserable in this ivorld ; a right- 
eous governor will made a difference betwixt the evil and 
the good ; which sentences are the effect of judgment, and 
are called propositions." And, Part II. Chap. II. Sect. 
9 : — " The evidence of sense is, when we frame a prop- 
osition according to the dictate of any of our senses. So 
we judge, that grass is green; that a trumpet gives a pleas- 
ant sound ; that fire burns wood ; water is soft ; and iron 
hard." 

In this meaning, judgment extends to every kind of ev- 
idence, probable or certain, and to every degree of assent 
or dissent. It extends to all knowledge as well as to all 
opinion ; with this difference only, that in knowledge it is 
more firm and steady, like a house founded upon a rock. 
In opinion it stands upon a weaker foundation, and is 
more liable to be shaken and overturned. 
28* 



330 JUDGMENT. 

These differences about the meaning of words are not 
mentioned as if truth were on one side, and error on the 
other, but as an apology for deviating, in this instance, 
from the phraseology of Mr. Locke, which is for the most 
part accurate and distinct ; and because attention to the 
different meanings that are put upon words by different 
authors is the best way to prevent our mistaking verbal 
differences for real differences of opinion. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF COMMON SENSE. 

I. Different Signification of the Term Sense in Philo- 
sophical and Popular Language.] The word sense, in 
common language, seems to have a different meaning from 
that which it has in the writings of philosophers ; and 
those different meanings are apt to be confounded, and to 
occasion embarrassment and error. Not to go back to 
ancient philosophy upon this point, modern philosophers 
consider sense as a power that has nothing to do with 
judgment. Sense they consider as the power by which 
we receive certain ideas or impressions from objects ; and 
judgment as the power by which we compare those ideas, 
and perceive their necessary agreements and disagreements. 

The external senses give us the idea of color, 6gure, 
sound, and other qualities of body, primary or secondary. 
Mr. Locke gave the name of internal sense to conscious- 
ness, because by it we have the ideas of thought, memory, 
reasoning, and other operations of our own minds. Dr. 
Hutcheson, of Glasgow, conceiving that we have simple 
and original ideas which cannot be imputed either to the 
external senses, or to consciousness, introduced other in- 
ternal senses ; such as the sense of harmony, the sense of 
beauty, and the moral sense. Ancient philosophers also 
spoke of internal senses, of which memory was accounted 
one. 

But all these senses, whether external or internal, have 



OF COMMON SENSE. 331 

been represented by philosophers as the means of fur- 
nishing our minds with ideas, without including any kind 
of judgment. Dr. Hutcheson defines a sense to be "a 
determination of the mind to receive any idea from the 
presence of an object independent on our will." 

" By this term [sense] philosophers in general have de- 
nominated those faculties, in consequence of which we are 
liable to feelings relative to ourselves only, and from which 
they have not pretended to draw any conclusions concern- 
ing the nature of things ; whereas truth is not relative, but 
absolute and real." — Dr. Priestley's Examination of Dr. 
Reid, &c, p. 123. 

On the contrary, in common language, sense always im- 
plies judgment. A man of sense is a man of judgment. 
Good sense is good judgment. Nonsense is what is evi- 
dently contrary to right judgment. Common sense is that 
degree of judgment which is common to men with whom 
we can converse and transact business. 

Seeing and hearing by philosophers are called senses, 
because we have ideas by them ; by the vulgar they are 
called senses, because we judge by them. We judge of 
colors by the eye ; of sounds by the ear ; of beauty and 
deformity by taste ; of right and wrong in conduct by our 
moral sense or conscience. 

Sometimes philosophers, who represent it as the sole 
province of sense to furnish us with ideas, fall unawares 
into the popular opinion, that they are judging faculties. 
Thus Locke, Book IV. Chap. XL § 2 : — " And of this 
(that the quality or accident of color really exists, and has 
a being without me), the greatest assurance I can possi- 
bly have, and to which my faculties can attain, is the tes- 
timony of my eyes, which are the proper and sole judges 
of this thing." 

This popular meaning of the word sense is not peculiar 
to the English language. The corresponding words in 
Greek, Latin, and I believe in all the European lan- 
guages, have the same latitude. The Latin words sentire, 
sententia, sensa,* sensus, from the last of which the Eng- 

* What does sensa mean ? Is it an erratum, or does he refer to sen- 
sa, — once only, I believe, employed by Cicero, and interpreted by No- 
nius Marcellus as qua sentiuntur? — H. 



332 JUDGMENT. 

lish word sense is borrowed, express judgment or opinion, 
and are applied indifferently to objects of external sense, 
of taste, of morals, and of the understanding. 

I cannot pretend to assign the reason why a word, which 
is no term of art, which is familiar in common conversa- 
tion, should have so different a meaning in philosophical 
writings. I shall only observe, that the philosophical 
meaning corresponds perfectly with the account which 
Mr. Locke and other modern philosophers give of judg- 
ment. For if the sole province of the senses, external 
and internal, be to furnish the mind with the ideas about 
which we judge and reason, it seems to be a natural con- 
sequence, that the sole province of judgment should be to 
compare those ideas, and to perceive their necessary rela- 
tions. 

These two opinions seem to be so connected, that one 
may have been the cause of the other. I apprehend, 
however, that if both be true, there is no room left for 
any knowledge or judgment, either of the real existence 
of contingent things, or of their contingent relations. 

To return to the popular meaning of the word sense. I 
believe it would be much more difficult to find good au- 
thors who never use it in that meaning, than to find such 
as do. We may take Mr. Pope as good authority for the 
meaning of an English word. He uses it often, and in 
his Epistle to the Earl of Burlington, has made a little 
descant upon it. 

" Oft have you hinted to your brother peer 
A certain truth, which many buy too dear; 
Something there is more needful than expense, 
And something previous e'en to taste, — 'tis sense. 
Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven; 
And though no science, fairly worth the seven; 
A light, which in yourself you must perceive, 
Jones and Le Notre have it not to give." 

II. Meaning of the Term Common Sense."] This in- 
ward light or sense is given by Heaven to different per- 
sons in different degrees. There is a certain degree of it 
which is necessary to our being subjects of law and gov- 
ernment, capable of managing our own affairs, and an- 
swerable for our conduct towards others : this is called 
common sense, because it is common to all men whom 



OF COMMON SENSE. 333 

we can transact business with, or call to account for 
their conduct. 

The laws of all civilized nations distinguish those who 
have this gift of Heaven from those who have it not. 
The last may have rights which ought not to be violated, 
but, having no understanding in themselves to direct their 
actions, the laws appoint them to be guided by the under- 
standing of others. It is easily discerned by its effects in 
men's actions, in their speeches, and even in their looks ; 
and when it is made a question, whether a man has this 
natural gift or not, a judge or a jury, upon a short conver- 
sation with him, can, for the most part, determine the 
question with great assurance. 

The same degree of understanding which makes a man 
capable of acting with common prudence in the conduct 
of life, makes him capable of discovering what is true and 
what is false in matters that are self-evident, and which he 
distinctly apprehends. All knowledge, and all science, 
must be built upon principles that are self-evident ; and of 
such principles, every man who has common sense is a 
competent judge, when he conceives them distinctly. 
Hence it is, that disputes very often terminate in an ap- 
peal to common sense. While the parties agree in the 
first principles on which their arguments are grounded, 
there is room for reasoning ; but when one denies what 
to the other appears too evident to need or to admit of 
proof, reasoning seems to be at an end ; an appeal is 
made to common sense, and each party is left to enjoy 
his own opinion. 

There seems to be no remedy for this, nor any way left 
to discuss such appeals, unless the decisions of common 
sense can be brought into a code, in which all reasonable 
men shall acquiesce. This, indeed, if it were possible, 
would be very desirable, and would supply a desideratum 
in logic ; and why should it be thought impossible that 
reasonable men should agree in things that are self-evi- 
dent ? 

All that is intended in this chapter is to explain the 
meaning of common sense, that it may not be treated, as 
it has been by some, as a new principle, or as a word 
without any meaning. I have endeavoured to show, that 



334 JUDGMENT. 

sense, in its most common, and therefore its most proper 
meaning, signifies judgment, though philosophers often use 
it in another meaning. From this it is natural to think, 
that common sense should mean common judgment ; and 
so it really does. 

What the precise limits are which divide common judg- 
ment from what is beyond it, on the one hand, and from 
what falls short of it, on the other, may be difficult to de- 
termine ; and men may agree in the meaning of the word 
who have different opinions about those limits, or who 
even never thought of fixing them. This is as intelligible 
as that all Englishmen should mean the same thing by the 
county of York, though perhaps not a hundredth part of 
them can point out its precise limits. Indeed, it seems 
to me that common sense is as unambiguous a word, and 
as well understood, as the county of York. We find it in 
innumerable places in good writers ; we hear it on innu- 
merable occasions in conversation ; and, as far as I am 
able to judge, always in the same meaning. And this is 
probably the reason why it is so seldom defined or ex- 
plained. 

Dr. Johnson, in the authorities he gives, to show that 
the word sense signifies understanding, soundness of fac- 
ulties, strength of natural reason, quotes Dr. Bentley for 
what may be called a definition of common sense, though 
probably not intended for that purpose, but mentioned ac- 
cidentally : — "God hath endowed mankind with power 
and abilities, which we call natural light and reason, and 
common sense." 

It is true, that common sense is a popular, and not a 
scholastic word ; and by most of those who have treated 
systematically of the powers of the understanding, it is 
only occasionally mentioned, as it is by other writers. 
But I recollect two philosophical writers who are excep- 
tions to this remark. One is Buffier, who treated largely 
of common sense, as a principle of knowledge, above fifty 
years ago.* The other is Bishop Berkeley, who, I think, 



* " Buffer's Traiti des Previi&res Viritcz was first published in 1717, 
his Elemens de Metaphysique in 1724. If we except Lord Herbert's 
treatise De Veritate, these works exhibit the first regular and compre- 
hensive attempt to found philosophy on certain primary truths, given in 



OF COMMON SENSE. 335 

has laid as much stress upon common sense, in opposition 
to the doctrines of philosophers, as any philosopher that 
has come after him. 

Men rarely ask what common sense is ; because every 
.man believes himself possessed of it, and would take it for 
an imputation upon his understanding to be thought unac- 
quainted with it. Yet I remember two very eminent au- 
thors who have put this question ; and it is not improper 
to hear their sentiments upon a subject so frequently men- 
tioned, and so rarely canvassed. 

It is well known, that Lord Shaftesbury gave to one of 
his treatises the title of Sensus Communis ; an Essay on 
the Freedom of Wit and Humor, in a Letter to a Friend ; 
in which he puts his friend in mind of a free conversation 
with some of their friends on the subjects of morality and 
religion. Amidst the different opinions started and main- 
certain primary sentiments or feelings." In his Supplementary Disser- 
tations, Note A, § 6, Sir W. Hamilton subjoins a succinct exposition of 
Buffier's doctrine, and concludes the article by warning his readers 
against the misrepresentations of the anonymous English translator of 
the treatise on First Truths. "Not only," as he tells us, "have these 
never been exposed, but Mr. Stewart has bestowed on that individual 
an adventitious importance, by lauding his 'acuteness and intelligence,' 
w"hile acquiescing in his 'severe but just animadversions' on Dr. Beat- 
tie. — Elements, Part II. Chap. I. Sect. 3. 

''The translator to his version, which appeared in 1780, has annexed 
an elaborate Preface, the sole object of which is to inveigh against lleid, 
Beattie, and Oswald, — more especially the last two, — for at once steal- 
ing and spoiling the doctrine of the learned Jesuit. 

" In regard to the spoiling, the translator is the only culprit. Ac- 
cording to him Buffier's ' common sense is a disposition of mind not nat- 
ural, but acquired by age and time.' (pp. iv., xxxiv.) ' Those first truths 
which are its object require experience and meditation to be conceived, 
and the judgments thence derived are the result of exercising reason.' 
(p. v.) 'The use of reason is reasoning ' ; and ' common sense is that de- 
gree of understanding in all things to which the generality of mankind 
are capable of attaining by the exertion of their rational faculty.' (p 
xvii.) In fact, Buffier's first truths, on his translator's showing, are last 
truths; for when 'by time we arrive at the knowledge of an infinitude 
of things, and by the use of reason (i. e. by reasoning) form our judg- 
ment on them, those judgments are then justly to be considered as first 
truths'!!! (p. xviii.) But how, it will be asked, does he give any color 
to so unparalleled a perversion? By the very easy process of, — 1°, 
throwing out of account, or perverting, what his author does say ; — 2°, 
interpolating what his author not only does not say, but what is in the 
very teeth of his assertions; and 3°, by founding on these perversions 
and interpolations as on the authentic words of his author. 

"As to the plagiarism, I may take this opportunity of putting down, 



336 JUDGMENT. 

tained with great life and ingenuity, one or other would 
every now and then take the liberty to appeal to common 
sense. Every one allowed the appeal ; no one would of- 
fer to call the authority of the court in question, till a gen- 
tleman, whose good understanding was never yet brought 
in doubt, desired the company very gravely that they 
would tell him what common sense was. 

" If," said he, "by the word sense, we were to under- 
stand opinion and judgment, and by the word common, 
the generality, or any considerable part of mankind, it 
would be hard to discover where the subject of common 
sense could lie ; for that which was according to the sense 
ol one part of mankind was against the sense of another : 
and if the majority were to determine common sense, it 
would change as often as men changed. That, in religion, 
common sense was as hard to determine as catholic or 

once and for ever, this imputation, although the character of the man 
might have well exempted Reid from all suspicion of so unworthy an 
act. It applies only to the Inquiry; and there the internal evidence is 
almost of itself sufficient to prove that Reid could not, prior to that pub- 
lication, have been acquainted with Buffier's treatise. The strongest, 
indeed the sole presumption, arises from the employment, by both phi- 
losophers, of the term common sense, which, strange to say, sounded to 
many in this country as singular and new; whilst it was even commoft- 
ly believed, that, before Reid, Buffier was the first, indeed the only phi- 
losopher, who had taken notice of this principle, as one of the genuine 
sources of our knowledge. After the testimonies now adduced, and to 
be adduced, it would be the apex of absurdity to presume that none but 
Buffier could have suggested to Reid either the principle or its designa- 
tion. Here are given forty-eight authorities, ancient and modern, for 
the philosophical employment of the term common sense, previous to 
Reid, and from any of these Reid may be said to have borrowed it with 
equal justice as from Buffier; but, taken together, they concur in prov- 
ing that the expression, in the application in question, was one in gen- 
eral use, and free as the air to all and each who chose thus to em- 
ploy it. 

"But, in fact, what has not been noticed, we know, from an inci- 
dental statement of Reid himself, — and this, be it noticed, prior to the 
charge of plagiarism, — that he only became acquainted with the trea- 
tise of Buffier after the publication of his own Inquiry. For in his Ac- 
count of Aristotle's Logic, written and published some ten years subse- 
quently to that work, he says, — ' I have lately met with a very judicious 
treatise written by Father Buffier,' &c, Chap. VI'. Sect. II. Compare, 
also, Intellectual Poicers [the passage to which this note is appended]. 
In this last work, however, published after the translation of Buffier, 
though indirectly defending the less manifestly innocent partners in the 
accusation from the charge advanced, his self-respect prevents him 
from saying a single word in his own vindication." — Ed. 



OF COMMON SENSE. 337 

orthodox. What to one was absurdity, to another was 
demonstration. In policy, if plain British or Dutch sense 
were right, Turkish and French must certainly be wrong. 
And as mere nonsense as passive obedience seemed, 
we found it to be the common sense of a great party 
amongst ourselves, a greater party in Europe, and per- 
haps the greatest party of all the world besides. As 
for morals, the difference was still wider ; for even the 
philosophers could never agree in one and the same sys- 
tem. And some, even of our most admired modern 
philosophers, had fairly told us, that virtue and vice had 
no other law or measure than mere fashion and vogue." 

This is the substance of the gentleman's speech, which, 
I apprehend, explains the meaning of the word perfectly, 
and contains all that has been said, or can be said, against 
the authority of common sense, and the propriety of 
appeals to it. As there is no mention of any answer 
immediately made to this speech, we might be apt to 
conclude, that the noble author adopted the sentiments of 
the intelligent gentleman whose speech he recites. But 
the contrary is manifest, from the title of Sensvs Com- 
munis given to his Essay, from his frequent use of the 
word, and from the whole tenor of the Essay. 

The author appears to have a double intention in that 
Essay, corresponding to the double title prefixed to it. 
One intention is, to justify the use of wit, humor, and 
ridicule, in discussing among friends the gravest subjects. 
"I can very well suppose," says he, "men may be 
frighted out of their wits ; but I have no apprehension 
they should be laughed out of them. I can hardly 
imagine, that, in a pleasant way, they should ever be 
talked out of their love for society, or reasoned out of 
humanity and common sense." 

The other intention, signified by the title Sensus Com- 
munis, is carried on hand in hand with the first, and is, to 
show that common sense is not so vague and uncertain a 
thing as it is represented to be in the skeptical speech 
before recited. "I will try," says he, "what certain 
knowledge or assurance of things may be recovered it. that 
very way, (to wit, of humor,) by which all certainty, you 
thought, was lost, and an endless skepticism introduced." 
29 



338 JUDGMENT. 

He gives some criticisms upon the expression sensus 
communis in Juvenal, Horace, and Seneca ; and after 
showing, in a facetious way throughout the treatise, 
that the fundamental principles of morals, of politics, of 
criticism, and of every branch of knowledge, are the 
dictates of common sense, he sums up the whole in these 
words: — "That some moral and philosophical truths 
there are so evident in themselves, that it would be easier 
to imagine half mankind run mad, and joined precisely in 
the same species of folly, than to admit any thing as 
truth, which should be advanced against such natural 
knowledge, fundamental reason, and common sense." 
And, on taking leave, he adds, • — " And now, my friend, 
should you find I had moralized in any tolerable manner 
according to common sense, and without canting, I should 
be satisfied with my performance." 

Another eminent writer who has put the question what 
common sense is, is Fenelon, the famous Archbishop of 
Cambray. That ingenious and pious author, having had 
an early prepossession in favor of the Cartesian philoso- 
phy, made an attempt to establish, on a sure foundation, 
the metaphysical arguments which Descartes had in- 
vented to prove the being of the Deity. For this 
purpose, he begins with the Cartesian doubt. He pro- 
ceeds to find out the truth of his own existence, and then 
to examine wherein the evidence and certainty of this 
and other such primary truths consisted. This, accord- 
ing to Cartesian principles, he places in the clearness and 
distinctness of the ideas. On the contrary, he places the 
absurdity of the contrary propositions, in their being re- 
pugnant to his clear and distinct ideas. 

To illustrate this, he gives various examples of ques- 
tions manifestly absurd and ridiculous, which every man 
of common understanding would at first sight perceive to 
be so, and then goes on to this purpose : — " What is it 
that makes these questions ridiculous ? Wherein does 
this ridicule precisely consist ? It will perhaps be re- 
plied, that it consists in this, that they shock common 
sense. But what is this same common sense ? It is not 
the first notions that all men have equally of the same 
things. This common sense, which is always and in all 



OF COMMON SENSE. 339 

places the same } which prevents inquiry ; which makes 
inquiry in some cases ridiculous ; which, instead of inquir- 
ing, makes a man laugh whether he will or not ; which 
puts it out of a man's power to doubt ; this sense, which 
only waits to be consulted, — which shows itself at the 
first glance, and immediately discovers the evidence or 
the absurdity of a question, — is not this the same that 
I call my ideas ? 

" Behold, then, those ideas or general notions, which it 
is not in my power either to contradict or examine, and by 
which I examine and decide in every case, insomuch that 
I laugh instead of answering, as often as any thing is pro- 
posed to me which is evidently contrary to what these 
immutable ideas represent." 

I shall only observe upon this passage, that the inter- 
pretation it gives of Descarles's criterion of truth, whether 
just or not, is the most intelligible and the most favorable 
I have met with. 

I beg leave to mention one passage from Cicero, and to 
add two or three from late writers, which show that this 
word has not become obsolete, or changed its meaning. 
De Oratore, Lib. III. 50. — " Omnes enim tacito quodam 
sensu, sine ulla arte aut ratione, in artibus ac rationibus, 
recta ac prava dijudicant. Idque cum faciant in picturis, 
et in signis, et in aliis operibus, ad quorum intelligentiam 
a natura minus habent instrument^ turn multo ostendunt 
magis in verborum, numerorum, vocumque judicio ; quod 
ea sint in communibus infixa sensibus ; neque earum rerum 
quemquam funditus natura voluit expertem." 

Hume's Essays and Treatises, Vol. I. p. 5. — "But a 
philosopher who proposes only to represent the common 
sense of mankind in more beautiful and more engaging 
colors, if by accident he commits a mistake, goes no 
further, but, renewing his appeal to common sense and 
the natural sentiments of the mind, returns into the right 
path, and secures himself from any dangerous illusion." 

Hume's Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, 
p. 2. — " Those who have refused the reality of moral 
distinctions may be ranked among the disingenuous dispu- 
tants. The only way of converting an antagonist of this 
kind is to leave him to himself: for, finding that nobody 



340 JUDGMENT. 

keeps up the controversy with him, it is probable he will 
at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the 
side of common sense and reason." 

Priestley's Institutes, Preliminary Essay, Vol. I. p. 27. 
— " Because common sense is a sufficient guard against 
many errors in religion, it seems to have been taken for 
granted, that that common sense is a sufficient instructor 
also, whereas in fact, without positive instruction, men 
would naturally have been mere savages with respect to 
religion ; as, without similar instruction, they would be 
savages with respect to the arts of life and the sciences. 
Common sense can only be compared to a judge ; but 
what can a judge do without evidence and proper mate- 
rials from which to form a judgment ? " 

Priestley's Examination of Dr. Reid, &c, p. 127. — 
" But should we, out of complaisance, admit that what 
has hitherto been called judgment may be called sense, it 
is making too free with the established signification of 
words to call it common sense, which, in common accep- 
tation, has long been appropriated to a very different 
thing, viz., to that capacity for judging of common things 
that persons of middling capacities are capable of." 
Again, p. 129. — " I should therefore expect, that, if a 
man was so totally deprived of common sense as not to 
be able to distinguish truth from falsehood in one case, he 
would be equally incapable of distinguishing it in another." 

From this cloud of testimonies, to which hundreds 
might be added, I apprehend that whatever censure is 
thrown upon those who have spoken of common sense as 
a principle of knowledge, or who have appealed to it in 
matters that are self-evident, will fall light, when there are 
so many to share in it. Indeed, the authority of this tri- 
bunal is too sacred and venerable, and has prescription 
too long in its favor to be now wisely called in question. 
Those who are disposed to do so may remember the 
shrewd saying of Mr. Hobbes, — ct When reason is against 
a man, a man will be against reason." This is equally 
applicable to common sense.* 

* In the fifth section of the same Dissertation referred to in the last 
note, Sir. W. Hamilton defines vvitli clearness and precision the various 
acceptations of the term common sense, only two or three of which need 



OF COMMON SENSE. 341 

III. Relation of Reason and Common Sense to each 
other.] It is absurd to conceive that there can be any 

here be noticed. Sometimes " it denotes the complement of those 
cognitions or convictions which we receive from nature; which all men 
■profess in common; and by which they test the truth of knowledge and the 
morality of actions. This is the meaning in which the expression is 
now emphatically employed in philosophy, and which may be, there- 
fore, called its philosophical signification. As authorities for its use in 
this relation, Reid has adduced legitimate examples from Bent'ley, 
Shaftesbury, Fenelon, Buffier, and Hume. The others which he quotes 
from Cicero and Priestley can hardly be considered as more than in- 
stances of the employment of the words ; for the former, in the par- 
ticular passage quoted, does not seem to mean by scnsus communis more 
than the faculty of apprehending sensible relations which all possess ; 
and the latter explicitly states, that he uses the words in the meaning 
which we are hereafter to consider. Mr. Stewart, Elements, Part II. 
Chap. I. Sect. 4, to the examples of Reid adds only a single, and that 
not an unambiguous instance, from Bayle. It therefore still remains 
to show that in this signification its employment is not only of author- 
ized usage, but, in fact, one long and universally established. This is 
done in the series of testimonies I shall adduce in a subsequent part of 
this note, [from Hesiod to De la Mennais, in all one hundred and six 
witnesses,] — principally, indeed, to prove that the doctrine of common 
sense, notwithstanding many schismatic aberrations, is the one catholic 
and perennial philosophy, but which also concur in showing that this, 
too, is the name under which that doctrine has for two thousand years 
been most familiarly known, at least in the Western world. Of these, 
Lucretius, Cicero, Horace, Seneca, Tertullian, Arnobius, and St. Augus- 
tin, exhibit the expression as recognized in the language and philosophy 
of ancient Rome ; while some fifty others prove its scientific and collo- 
quial usage in every country of modern Europe." 

According to another acceptation of the term common sense, "it 
denotes such an ordinary complement of intelligence, that, if a person be 
deficient therein, he is accounted mad or foolish. Sensns communis is thus 
used in Phasdrus, Lib. 1.7; — but Horace, Serm., Lib. I. 3, and Juve- 
nal, Sat. VIII. 73, are erroneously, though usually, interpreted in this 
signification. In modern Latinity (as in Milton Contra Salmusium, 
Cap. VIII.), and in most of the vulgar languages, the expression in this 
meaning is so familiar, that it would be idle to adduce examples. Sir 
James Mackintosh, Dissertations, &c, p. 387 of the collected edition, 
imagines, indeed, that this is the only meaning of common sense; and 
on this ground censures Reid for the adoption of the term ; and even 
Mr. Stewart's objections to it seem to proceed on the supposition, that 
this is the proper or more accredited signification. See Elements, 
Part II. Chap. I. Sect. 2; and Life of Reid, Sect. 2. This is wrong; 
but Reid himself, it must be acknowledged, does not sufficiently dis- 
tinguish between this and the last-mentioned acceptation ; as may be 
seen from the tenor of his chapter on Common Sense, but especially 
from the concluding chapter of the Inquiry. 

Again, when common sense is used with emphasis on the substantive 
and not on the adjective, it often, in popular language, " expresses 
native practical intelligence, natural prudence, mother wit, tact in beha- 
viour, acuteness in the observation of character, fyc, in contrast to habits of 
acquired learning, or of speculation away from the affairs of life. I recol- 

29* 



342 JUDGMENT. 

opposition between reason and common sense. It is, 
indeed, the first-born of reason, and, as they are com- 
monly joined together in speech and in writing, they are 
inseparable in their nature. 

We ascribe to reason two offices, or two degrees. 
The first is to judge of things self-evident ; the second to 
draw conclusions that are not self-evident from those that 
are. The first of these is the province, and the sole 
province, of common sense ; and therefore it coincides 
with reason in its whole extent, and is only another name 
for one branch or one degree of reason. Perhaps it may 
be said, Why, then, should you give it a particular name, 
since it is acknowledged to be only a degree of reason ? 
It would be a sufficient answer to this, Why do you 
abolish a name which is to be found in the language of all 
civilized nations, and has acquired a right by prescrip- 
tion ? Such an attempt is equally foolish and ineffectual. 
Every wise man will be apt to think, that a name which is 
found in all languages as far back as we can trace them, is 
not without some use. 

But there is an obvious reason why this degree of rea- 
son should have a name appropriated to it ; and that is, 
that in the greatest part of mankind no other degree of 
reason is to be found. It is this degree that entitles them 
to the denomination of reasonable creatures. It is this 
degree of reason, and this only, that makes a man capable 
of managing his own affairs, and answerable for his con- 
duct towards others. There is, therefore, the best reason 
why it should have a name appropriated to it. 

These two degrees of reason differ in other respects, 
which would be sufficient to entitle them to distinct 
names. 

The first is purely the gift of Heaven. And where 
Heaven has not given it, no education can supply the 
want. The second is learned by practice and rules, 
when the first is not wanting. A man who has common 
sense may be taught to reason. But if he has not that 

lect no unambiguous examples of the phrase, in this precise acceptation, 
in any ancient author. In modern languages, and more particularly in 
French and English, it is of ordinary occurrence. Thus, Voltaire's say- 
ing, 'Le sens commun n'est pas si commun'; — which, I may notice, 
was stolen from Buffier, M6taphysique, § 69." — Ed. 



OF COMMON SENSE. 343 

gift, no teaching will make him able either to judge of 
first principles or to reason from them. 

I have only this further to observe, that the province of 
common sense is more extensive in refutation than in con- 
firmation. A conclusion drawn by a train of just reason- 
ing from true principles cannot possibly contradict any 
decision of common sense, because truth will always be 
consistent with itself. Neither can such a conclusion 
receive any confirmation from common sense, because it 
is not within its jurisdiction. 

But it is possible, that, by setting out from false prin- 
ciples, or by an error in reasoning, a man may be led to a 
conclusion that contradicts the decisions of common sense. 
In this case, the conclusion is within the jurisdiction of 
common sense, though the reasoning on which it was 
grounded be not ; 'and a man of common sense may fairly 
reject the conclusion, without being able to show the error 
of the reasoning that led to it. Thus, if a mathematician, 
by a process of intricate demonstration, in which some 
false step was made, should be brought to this conclusion, 
that two quantities, which are each equal to a third, are 
not equal to each other, a man of common sense, without 
pretending to be a judge of the demonstration, is well 
entitled to reject the conclusion, and to pronounce it 
absurd.* 



* In Jouffroy's Milanges Philosophiques there is an article, De laPhi- 
losophie et du Sens Commun (translated by Mr. Ripley, in his Philo- 
sophical Miscellanies, Vol. I. p. 305 etseq.), in which he marks with 
some distinctness their relation to each other. 

" Before their accession to philosophy, philosophers, in their capacity 

as men, e within them the light of common sense; they made use 

of it in their judgments and in their conduct; and whatever may be 
the result of their scientific labors, it is not perceived that they re- 
nounce common sense in the ordinary affairs of life, or that they are 
any more converted to their own doctrines than the great mass of man- 
kind. They avow in practice, not only the existence, but the supe- 
riority, of the solutions of common sense. What, then, do they seek? 
What is the purpose of their endeavours? Let us attempt to explain it? 

" The solutions of common sense are not established in any explicit 
manner and in a positive form, in the human mind. Ask the first man 
you meet, what idea he has formed of the Good, or what he thinks con- 
cerning the nature of things; — he will not know what you say. If 
you attempt to explain to him the meaning of those two questions, at 
least unless you use all the skill of Socrates, he will find it hard to com- 
prehend you. But undertake to call in question, with the Stoics, that 



344 JUDGMENT. 

CHAPTER III. 

OF FIRST PRINCIPLES IN GENERAL. 

I. Nature, Necessity, and Use of First Principles.'] 
One of the most important distinctions of our judgments is, 
that some of them are intuitive, others grounded on argu- 
ment. 

It is not in our power to judge as we will. The judg- 
ment is carried along necessarily by the evidence, real or 
seeming, which appears to us at the time. But in propo- 
sitions that are submitted to our judgment there is this 
great difference ; some are of such a nature that a man of 
ripe understanding may apprehend them distinctly, and 
perfectly understand their meaning without finding himself 
under any necessity of believing them to be true or false, 
probable or improbable. The judgment remains in sus- 

pleasure is a good, or to deny, with the spiritualists, the existence of 
matter ; — you will see him laugh at your folly, and exhibit the most un- 
conquerable conviction with regard to those two points. It will be the 
same with every other question. Common sense, therefore, is an opin- 
ion of undoubted reality ; but men are governed by it almost uncon- 
sciously ; its existence is proved by the single fact that they judge and act 
as if they possessed it. Taken as a whole, it is obscure ; no one can 
give account of it; but when a particular case occurs, it is manifested at 
once by a clear and positive application ; it then returns into the shade. 
It is perceived in every judgment, in every determination; but, except 
in its application, it is as if it were not ; and it is precisely this obscurity 
which makes it insufficient for thinking men. Reflection cannot be sat- 
isfied with this species of inspiration, the characteristic of which is to 
be ignorant of itself, and to be satisfied with this ignorance. The elite 
of humanity is not satisfied with these obscure glimpses, these vague 
persuasions : it seeks to comprehend what every body believes ; it 
wishes to obtain clear solutions of the great questions that concern man ; 
and with it commences "philosophy. To philosophize is to comprehend ; 
to comprehend is not to know, but to verify what we knew before. 
How could we wish to comprehend, if we were ignorant of what we 
wished to comprehend?" 

To the same effect, but more pointedly, Sir W. Hamilton, Note A, 
§ 3 : — " Nor is it true, that the argument from common sense denies the 
decision to the judgment of philosophers, and accords it to the verdict 
of the vulgar. Nothing can be more erroneous. We admit, nay, 
we maintain, as D'Alembert well expresses it, that ' the truth in meta- 
physics, like the truth in matters of taste, is a truth of which all minds 
have the germ within themselves; to which, indeed, the greater num- 
ber pay no attention, but which they can recognize the moment it is 
pointed out to them. But if, in this sort, we are able to understand, all 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 345 

pense, until it is inclined to one side or another by rea- 
sons or arguments. 

But there are other propositions which are no sooner 
understood than they are believed. The judgment fol- 
lows the apprehension of them necessarily, and both are 
equally the work of nature, and the result of our original 
powers. There is no searching for evidence, no weigh- 
ing of arguments; the proposition is not deduced or in- 
ferred from another ; it has the light of truth in itself, and 
has no occasion to borrow it from another. 

Propositions of the last kind, when they are used in 
matters of science, have commonly been called axioms ; 
and on whatever occasion they are used, are called first 
principles, principles of common sense, common notions, 
self-evident truths. Cicero calls them naturce judicia, 
judicia communibus hominum sensibus infixa. Lord 
Shaftesbury expresses them by the words, natural knowl- 
edge, fundamental reason, and common sense.* 

are not able to instruct. The merit of conveying easily to others true 
and simple notions is much greater than is commonly supposed ; for ex- 
perience proves how rarely this is to be met with. Sound metaphys- 
ical ideas are common truths, which every one apprehends, but which 
few have the talent to develop. So difficult is it on any subject to make 
our own what belongs to every one.' Melanges, Tome IV. § 6. Or, 
to employ the words of the ingenious Lichtenberg, — 'Philosophy, 
twist the matter as we may, is always a sort of chemistry (Scheide- 
kunst). The peasant employs all the principles of abstract philosophy, 
only inv ] ei 'oped,. latent, engaged, as the men of physical science express 
it; the philosopher exhibits the pure principle.' Hinterlassene Schrif- 
ten, Vol. II. p. 67. 

"It must be recollected, also, that in appealing to the consciousness 
of mankind in general, we only appeal to the consciousness of those not 
disqualified to pronounce a decision. 'In saying (to use the words of 
Aristotle) simply and without qualification, that this or that is a Unoicn 
truth, we do not mean that it is in fact recognized by all, but only by 
such as are of a sound understanding ; just as, in saying absolutely that 
a thing is wholesome, we must be held to mean, to such as are of a 
hale constitution ' Top., Lib. VI. Cap. IV. § 7. — We may, in short, 
say of the true philosopher what Erasmus, in an epistle to Hutton, said 
of Sir Thomas More : — Nemo minus ducitur vulgijudicio ; sed rursus 
nemo minus abest a sensu communi." See also Appendix. 

Compare Beattie's Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, 
Part I. Chap. II. ; Oswald's Appeal to Common Sense, Vol. I. passim; 
Priestley's Examination of Dr. Reid's Inquiry, &c; Cogan's Ethical 
Questions, Speculation V. ; Galluppi, Lettere Filosofiche (translated into 
French by M. Peisse, Lettres Philosovhiqves, Paris, 1844), Let. XI. ; 
Blackwood's Magazine for August, 1847. — Ed. 

* For the nomenclature of first principles, see Sir W. Hamilton's 



346 JUDGMENT. 

I hold it to be certain, and even demonstrable, that all 
knowledge got by reasoning must be built upon first prin- 
ciples. 

This is as certain as that every house must have a 
foundation. The power of reasoning, in this respect, re- 
sembles the mechanical powers or engines; it must have a 
fixed point to rest upon, otherwise it spends its force in 
the air, and produces no effect. 

When we examine, in the way of analysis, the evi- 
dence of any proposition, either we find it self-evident, or 
it rests upon one or more propositions that support it. 

Note A, § 5. His remarks on two or three of the appellations which 
have recently grown into favor are here given. 
" 1. Instinctive beliefs, cognitions, judgments, &c. 
"Priestley (Examination, &c, passim) has attempted to ridicule 
Reid's use of the terms instinct and instinctive, in this relation, as an in- 
novation, not only in philosophy, but in language ; and Sir James Mack- 
intosh (Dissertations, p. 368) considers the term instinct not less im- 
firoper than the term common sense. As to the impropriety, though, 
ike most other psychological terms, these are not unexceptionable, they 
are, however, less so than many, nay than most, others. An instinct 
is an agent which performs blindly and ignorantly a work of intelligence 
and knowledge. The terms instinctive belief, instinctive judgment, in- 
stinctive cognition, are therefore expressions not ill adapted to charac- 
terize a belief, judgment, cognition, which, as the result of no anterior 
consciousness, is, like the products of animal instinct, the intelligent ef- 
fect of (as far as we are concerned) an unknown cause. In like man- 
ner, we can hardly find more suitable expressions to indicate those in- 
comprehensible spontaneities themselves, of which the primary facts of 
consciousness are the manifestations, than rational or intellectual in- 
stincts. In fact, if reason can justly be called a developed feeling, it 
may, with no less propriety, be called an illuminated instinct ; — in the 
words of Ovid, 

'Et quod nunc ratio, impetus ante fuit.' 

As to an innovation either in language or philosophy, this objection 
only betrays the ignorance of the objector. Mr. Stewart (Essays, 
Ess. II. Chap. II.) adduces Boscovich and D'Alembert as authorities 
for the employment of the terms instinct and instinctive in Reid's 
signification. But, before Reid, he might have found them thus applied 
by Cicero, Scaliger, Bacon, Herbert, Descartes, Rapin, Pascal, Poiret, 
Barrow, Leibnitz, Musaeus, Feuerlin, Hume, Bayer, Karnes, Reimarus, 
and a host of others; while subsequent to the Inquiry into the Human 
Mind, besides Beattie, Oswald, Campbell, Ferguson, among our Scot- 
tish philosophers, we have, with Ilemsterhuis in Holland, in Germany 
Tetens, Jacobi, Bouterweck, Neeb, Koppen, Ancillon, and many other 
metaphysicians who have adopted and defended the expressions. 

" 2. A priori truths, principles, cognitions, notions, judgments, &c. 

The term a priori, by the influence of Kant and his school, is now 
very generally employed to characterize those elements of knowledge 
which are not obtained a posteriori, — are not evolved out of experi- 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 347 

The same thing may be said of the propositions that sup- 
port it; and of those that support them, as far back as we 
can go. But we cannot go back in this track to infinity. 
Where, then, must this analysis stop ? It is evident that 
it must stop only when we come to propositions, which 
support all that are built upon them, but are themselves 
supported by none, that is, to self-evident propositions. 

Let us next consider a synthetical proof of any kind, 
where we begin with the premises, and pursue a train of 
consequences, until we come to the last conclusion, or 
thing to be proved. Here we must begin, either with 

ence as factitious generalizations ; but which are native to, are poten- 
tially in, the mind antecedent to the act of experience, on occasion ot 
which (as constituting its subjective conditions) they are first actually 
elicited into consciousness. These, like many, indeed most others ol 
his technical expressions, are old words applied in a new signification. 
Previously to Kant, the terms a priori and a posteriori were, in a sense 
which descended from Aristotle, properly and usually employed, — 
the former to denote a reasoning from cause to effect, the latter, a rea- 
soning from effect to cause. The term a priori came, however, in 
modern times, to be extended to any abstract reasoning from a given no- 
tion to the conditions which sucb notion involved ; hence, for example, 
the title a priori bestowed on the ontological and cosmological argu- 
ments for the existence of the Deity. The latter of these, in fact, starts 
from experience, — from the observed contingency of the world, — in 
order to construct the supposed notion on which it founds. Clarke's 
cosmological demonstration, called a priori, is therefore, so far, properly 
an argument a posteriori. 

"3. Transcendental truths, principles, cognitions, judgments, &c. 

"In the schools, transcendentalis and transcendens were convertible 
expressions, employed to mark a term or notion which transcended, that 
is, which rose above, and thus contained under it, the categories, or 
summa genera, of Aristotle. Such, for example, is being, of which the 
ten categories are only subdivisions. Kant, according to his wont, 
twisted these old terms into a new signification. First of all, he dis- 
tinguished them from each other. Transcendent {transcendens) he em- 
ployed to denote what is wholly beyond experience, being given neither 
as an a posteriori nor a priori element of cognition, — what, therefore, 
transcends every category of thought. Transcendental {transcendentalis) 
he applied to signify the a priori or necessary cognitions, which, though 
manifested in, as affording the conditions of, experience, transcend the 
sphere of that contingent or adventitious knowledge which we acquire 
by experience. Transcendental is not, therefore, what transcends, but 
what in fact constitutes, a category of thought. This term, though 
probably from another quarter, has found favor with Mr. Stewart ; who 
proposes to exchange the expression principles of common sense, for, 
among other names, that of transcendental truths.'" 

The designation by which Mr. Stewart prefers to distinguish pri- 
mary truths is that of fundamental laws of human belief or primary ele- 
ments of human reason. — Elements, Part II. Chap. I. — Ed. 



348 JUDGMENT. 

self-evident propositions, or with such as have been al- 
ready proved. When the last is the case, the proof of 
the propositions, thus assumed, is a part of our proof ; and 
the proof is deficient without it. Suppose, then, the defi- 
ciency supplied, and the proof completed, is it not evi- 
dent that it must set out with self-evident propositions, 
and that the whole evidence must rest upon them ? So 
that it appears to be demonstrable, that, without first prin- 
ciples, analytical reasoning could have no end, and syn- 
thetical reasoning could have no beginning ; and that 
every conclusion got by reasoning must rest with its whole 
weight upon first principles, as the building does upon its 
foundation. 

It would doubtless contribute greatly to the stability of 
human knowledge, and consequently to the improvement 
of it, if the first principles upon which the various parts of 
it are grounded were pointed out and ascertained. 

We have ground to think so from facts, as well as from 
the nature of the thing. There are two branches of hu- 
man knowledge in which this method has been followed^ 
— to wit, mathematics and natural philosophy: in mathe- 
matics, as far back as we have books. It is in this sci- 
ence only, that, for more than two thousand years since it 
began to be cultivated, we find no sects, no contrary sys- 
tems, and hardly any disputes ; or, if there have been dis- 
putes, they have ended as soon as the animosity of parties 
subsided, and have never been again revived. The sci- 
ence, once firmly established upon the foundation of a 
few axioms and definitions, as upon a rock, has grown 
from age to age, so as to become the loftiest and the most 
solid fabric that human reason can boast. 

Natural philosophy, till less than two hundred years ago, 
remained in the same fluctuating state with the other sci- 
ences. Every new system pulled up the old by the roots. 
The system-builders, indeed, were always willing to ac- 
cept of the aid of first principles, when they were of their 
side ; but finding them insufficient to support the fabric 
which their imagination had raised, they were only brought 
in as auxiliaries, and so intermixed with conjectures and 
with lame inductions, that their systems were like Nebu- 
chadnezzar's image, whose feet were partly of iron and 
partly of clay. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 349 

Lord Bacon first delineated the only solid foundation 
on which natural philosophy can be built : and Sir Isaac 
Newton reduced the principles laid down by Bacon into 
three or four axioms, which he calls regulw philosophandi. 
From these, together with the phenomena observed by the 
senses, which he likewise lays down as first principles, he 
deduces, by strict reasoning, the propositions contained in 
the third book of his Principia, and in his Optics; and by 
this means has raised a fabric in those two branches of 
natural philosophy, which is not liable to be shaken by 
doubtful disputation, but stands immovable upon the 
basis of self-evident principles.* 

We may observe, by the way, that the reason why lo- 
gicians have been so unanimous in determining the rules of 
reasoning, from Aristotle down to this day, seems to be, 
that they were by that great genius raised, in a scientific 
manner, from a few definitions and axioms. It may fur- 
ther be observed, that when men differ about a deduction, 
whether it follows from certain premises, this I think is 
always owing to their differing about some first principle. 
I shall explain this by an example. Suppose that, from 
a thing having begun to exist, one man infers that it must 
have had a cause ; another man does not admit the infer- 
ence. Here it is evident that the first takes it for a self- 
evident principle, that every thing which begins to exist 
must have a cause. The other does not allow this to be 
self-evident. Let them settle this point, and the dispute 
will be at an end. 

Thus I think it appears, that in matters of science, if 
the terms be properly explained, the first principles upon 
which the reasoning is grounded be laid down and exposed 
to examination, and the conclusions regularly deduced 
from them, it might be expected that men of candor and 
capacity, who love truth, and have patience to examine 
things coolly, might come to unanimity with regard to the 
force of the deductions, and that their differences might 
be reduced to those they may have about first principles. 

II. Means of determining what ought to be admitted as 
First Principles.} We are next to consider whether 

* Compare Stewart's Elements, Part II. Chap. I. 

30 



350 JUDGMENT. 

nature has left us destitute of means whereby the candid 
and honest part of mankind may be brought to unanimity 
when they happen to differ about first principles. 

When men differ about things that are taken to be first 
principles, or self-evident truths, reasoning seems to be at 
an end. Each party appeals to common sense ; and if 
one man's common sense gives one determination, an- 
other man's a contrary determination, there would seem, 
at first sight, to be no remedy but to leave every man to 
enjoy his own opinion. It is in vain to reason with a 
man who denies the first principles on which the reason- 
ing is grounded. Thus, it would be in vain to attempt 
the proof of a proposition in Euclid to a man who de- 
nies the axioms. Indeed, we ought never to reason with 
men who deny first principles from obstinacy and univill- 
ingness to yield to reason. 

But is it not possible, that men who really love truth, 
and are open to conviction, may differ about first principles? 

I think it is possible, and that it cannot, without great 
want of charity, be denied to be possible. 

When this happens, every man who believes that there 
is a real distinction between truth and error, and that the 
faculties which God has given us are not in their nature 
fallacious, must be convinced that there is a defect, or a 
perversion of judgment, on the one side or the other. A 
man of candor and humility will, in such a case, very nat- 
urally suspect his own judgment, so far as to be desirous .. 
to enter into a serious examination even of what he has 
long held as a first principle. He will think it not impos- 
sible that, although his heart be upright, his judgment may 
have been perverted, by education, by authority, by party 
zeal, or by some other of the common causes of error, 
from the influence of which neither parts nor integrity ex- 
empt the human understanding. 

In such a state of mind, so amiable, and so becoming 
every good man, has nature left him destitute of any ra- 
tional means by which he may be enabled, either to correct 
his judgment if it be wrong, or to confirm it if it be right ? 

I hope it is not so. I hope that, by the means which 
nature has furnished, controversies about first principles 
may be brought to an issue, and that the real lovers of 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 351 

truth may come to unanimity with regard to them. It is 
true, that, in other controversies, the process by which 
the truth of a proposition is discovered, or its falsehood 
detected, is by showing its necessary connection with first 
principles, or its repugnancy to them. It is true, like- 
wise, that, when the controversy is whether a proposition 
be itself a first principle, this process cannot be applied. 
The truth, therefore, in controversies of this kind, labors 
under a peculiar disadvantage. But it has advantages of 
another kind to compensate this. 

For, in the first place, in such controversies, every man 
is a competent judge ; and therefore it is difficult to im- 
pose upon mankind. 

To judge of first principles requires no more than a 
sound mind free from prejudice, and a distinct conception 
of the question. The learned and the unlearned, the phi- 
losopher and the day-laborer, are upon a level, and will 
pass the same judgment, when they are not misled by 
some bias, or taught to renounce their understanding from 
some mistaken religious principle. 

In matters beyond the reach of common understanding, 
the many are led by the few, and willingly yield to their 
authority. But in matters of common sense, the few 
must yield to the many, when local and temporary preju- 
dices are removed. No man is now moved by the subtile 
arguments of Zeno against motion, though perhaps he 
knows not how to answer them. 

The ancient skeptical system furnishes a remarkable in- 
stance of this truth. That system, of which Pyrrho was 
reputed the father, was carried down, through a succes- 
sion of ages, by very able and acute philosophers, who 
taught men to believe nothing at all, and esteemed it the 
highest pitch of human w 7 isdom to withhold assent from 
every proposition whatsoever. It was supported with 
very great subtilty and learning, as we see from the writ- 
ings of Sextus Empiricus, the only author of that sect 
whose writings have come down to our age. 

Yet, as this system was an insult upon the common 
sense of mankind, it died away of itself ; and it would be 
in vain to attempt to revive it. The modern skepticism, 
I mean that of Mr. Hume, is very different from the an- 



352 JUDGMENT. 

cient, otherwise it would not have been allowed a hearing ; 
and, when it has lost the grace of novelty, it will die away 
also, though it should never be refuted. 

Secondly, we may observe, that opinions which con- 
tradict first principles are distinguished from other errors 
by this, — that they are not only false, but absurd ; and, 
to discountenance absurdity, nature has given us a particu- 
lar emotion, — to wit, that of ridicule, — which seems in- 
tended for this very purpose of putting out of countenance 
what is absurd, either in opinion or practice. 

This weapon, when properly applied, cuts with as keen 
an edge as argument. Nature has furnished us with the 
first to expose absurdity, as with the last to refute error. 
Both are well fitted for their several offices, and are equal- 
ly friendly to truth, when properly used. Both may be 
abused to serve the cause of error; but the same degree 
of judgment which serves to detect the abuse of argument 
in false reasoning, serves to detect the abuse of ridicule 
when it is wrongly directed. Some have from nature a 
happier talent for ridicule than others ; and the same thing 
holds with regard to the talent of reasoning. But it must 
be acknowledged, that the emotion of ridicule, even when 
most natural, may be stifled by an emotion of a contrary 
nature, and cannot operate till that is removed. Thus, if 
the notion of sanctity is annexed to an object, it is no 
longer a laughable matter; and this visor must be pulled 
off before it appears ridiculous. Hence we see, that no- 
tions which appear most ridiculous to all who consider 
them coolly and indifferently have no such appearance to 
those who never thought of them but under the impres- 
sion of religious awe and dread. And even where relig- 
ion is not concerned, the novelty of an opinion to those 
who are too fond of novelties ; the gravity and solemnity 
with which it is introduced ; the opinion we have enter- 
tained of the author ; its apparent connection with princi- 
ples already embraced, or subserviency to interests which 
we have at heart ; and, above all, its being fixed in our 
minds at that time of life when we receive implicitly what 
we are taught, — may cover its absurdity, and fascinate 
the understanding for a time. 

But if ever we are able to view it naked, and stripped 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 353 

of those adventitious circumstances from which it bor- 
rowed its importance and authority, the natural emotion of 
ridicule will exert its force. An absurdity can be enter- 
tained by men of sense no longer than it wears a mask. 
When any man is found who has the skill or the boldness 
to pull off the mask, it can no longer bear the light ; it 
slinks into dark corners for a while, and then is no more 
heard of but as an object of ridicule. 

Thus I conceive that first principles, which are really 
the dictates of common sense, and directly opposed to 
absurdities in opinion, will always, from the constitution 
of human nature, support themselves, and gain rather than 
lose ground among mankind. 

It may be observed, thirdly, that although it is con- 
trary to the nature of first principles to admit of direct or 
apodlctical proof ; yet there are certain ways of reasoning 
even about them, by which those that are just and solid 
may be confirmed, and those that are false may be detected. 

It may here be proper to mention some of the topics 
from which we may reason in matters of this kind. 

First. It is a good argument ad hominem, if it can be 
shown, that a first principle which a man rejects stands 
upon the same footing with others which be admits ; for, 
when this is the case, he must be guilty of an inconsis- 
tency who holds the one and rejects the other. 

Thus the faculties of consciousness, of memory, of ex- 
ternal sense, and of reason, are all equally the gifts of na- 
ture. No good reason can be assigned for receiving the 
testimony of one of them, which is not of equal force with 
regard to the others. The greatest skeptics admit the 
testimony of consciousness, and allow that what it testi- 
fies is to be held as a first principle. If, therefore, they 
reject the immediate testimony of sense, or of memory, 
they are guilty of an inconsistency. 

Secondly. A first principle may admit of a proof ad 
absurdum. 

In this kind of proof, which is very common in mathe- 
matics, we suppose the contradictory proposition to be 
true. We trace the consequences of that supposition in 
a train of reasoning ; and if we find any of its necessary 
consequences to be manifestlv absurd, we conclude the 
30* 



354 JUDGMENT. 

supposition from which it followed to be false; and there- 
fore its contradictory to be true. There is hardly any 
proposition, especially of those that may claim the char- 
acter of first principles, that stands alone and unconnect- 
ed. It draws many others along with it in a chain that 
cannot be broken. He that takes it up must bear the 
burden of all its consequences ; and if that is too heavy 
for him to bear, he must not pretend to take it up. 

Thirdly. I conceive that the consent of ages and na~ 
tions, of the learned and unlearned, ought to have great 
authority with regard to first principles, where every man 
is a competent judge. 

Our ordinary conduct in life is built upon first princi- 
ciples, as well as our speculations in philosophy, and 
every motive to action supposes some belief. When we 
find a general agreement among men, in principles that 
concern human life, this must have great authority with 
every sober mind that loves truth. Still, it will be said, 
What has authority to do in matters of opinion ? Is truth 
to be determined by most votes ? Or is authority to be 
again raised out of its grave to tyrannize over mankind? 

Authority, though a very tyrannical mistress to private 
judgment, may yet, on some occasions, be a useful hand- 
maid ; this is all she is entitled to, and this is all I plead 
in her behalf. The justice of this plea will appear by put- 
ting a case in a science, in which, of all sciences, author- 
ity is acknowledged to have least weight. 

Suppose a mathematician has made a discovery in that 
science, which he thinks important ; that he has put his 
demonstration in just order ; and, after examining it with 
an attentive eye, has found no flaw in it ; I would ask, 
Will, there not be still in his breast some diffidence, some 
jealousy lest the ardor of invention may have made him 
overlook some false step ? This must be granted. He 
commits his demonstration to the examination of a mathe- 
matical friend, whom he esteems a competent judge, and 
waits with impatience the issue of his judgment. Here I 
would ask again, whether the verdict of his friend, ac- 
cording as it is favorable or unfavorable, will not greatly 
increase or diminish his confidence in his own judgment. 
Most certainly it will, and it ought. If the judgment of 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 355 

his friend agree with his own, especially if it be confirmed 
by two or three able judges, he rests secure of his discov- 
ery without further examination ; but if it be unfavorable, 
he is brought back into a kind of suspense, until the part 
that is suspected undergoes a new and a more rigorous 
examination. 

I hope what is supposed in this case is agreeable to na- 
ture, and to the experience of candid and modest men on 
such occasions ; yet here we see a man's judgment, even 
in a mathematical demonstration, conscious of some fee- 
bleness in itself, seeking the aid of authority to support it, 
greatly strengthened by that authority, and hardly able to 
stand erect against it, without some new aid. 

Now, in a matter of common sense, every man is no less 
a competent judge, than a mathematician is in a mathemat- 
ical demonstration ; and there must be a great presump- 
tion that the judgment of mankind, in such a matter, is the 
natural issue of those faculties which God has given 
them. Such a judgment can be erroneous only when 
there is some cause of the error, as general as the error is. 
When this can be shown to be the case, I acknowledge it 
ought to have its due weight. But to suppose a general 
deviation from truth among mankind in things self-evident, 
of which no cause can be assigned, is highly unreasonable. 

Perhaps it may be thought impossible to collect the 
general opinion of men upon any point whatsoever ; and, 
therefore, that this authority can serve us in no stead in 
examining first principles. But I apprehend, that, in 
many cases, this is neither impossible nor difficult. 

Who can doubt whether men have universally believed 
the existence of a materia] world ? Who can doubt 
whether men have universally believed, that every change 
that happens in nature must have a cause ? Who can 
doubt whether men have universally believed that there 
is a right and a wrong in human conduct, — some things 
that merit blame, and others that are entitled to approba- 
tion ? The universality of these opinions, and of many 
such that might be named, is sufficiently evident, from the 
whole tenor of human conduct, as far as our acquaintance 
reaches, and from the history of all ages and nations of 
which we have any records. 



356 JUDGMENT. 

There are other opinions that appear to be universal, 
from what is common in the structure of all languages. 
Language is the express image and picture of human 
thoughts ; and from the picture we may draw some cer- 
tain conclusions concerning the original. We find in all 
languages the same parts of speech ; we find nouns, sub- 
stantive and adjective ; verbs, active and passive, in their 
various tenses, numbers, and moods. Some rules of syn- 
tax are the same in all languages. 

Now, what is common in the structure of languages 
indicates a uniformity of opinion in those things upon 
which that structure is grounded. The distinction be- 
tween substances and the qualities belonging to them, be- 
tween thought and the being that thinks, between thought 
and the objects of thought, is to be found in the structure 
of all languages ; and therefore systems of philosophy, 
which abolish those distinctions, wage war with the com- 
mon sense of mankind. 

We are apt to imagine, that those who formed lan- 
guages were no metaphysicians ; but the first principles of 
all sciences are the dictates of common sense, and lie 
open to all men ; and every man, who has considered the 
structure of language in a philosophical light, will find in- 
fallible proofs that those who have framed it, and those 
who use it with understanding, have the power of making 
accurate distinctions, and of forming general conceptions, 
as well as philosophers. Nature has given those powers 
to all men, and they can use them when their occasions 
require it ; but they leave it to the philosophers to give 
names to them, and to descant upon their nature. In like 
manner, nature has given eyes to all men, and they can 
make good use of them ; but the structure of the eye, and 
the theory of vision, are the business of philosophers. 

Fourthly. Opinions that appear so early in the minds of 
men, that they cannot be the effect of education, or of false 
reasoning, have a good claim to be considered as first prin- 
ciples. Thus the belief we have, that the persons about 
us are living and intelligent beings, is a belief for which, 
perhaps, we can give some reason, when we are able to 
reason ; but we had this belief before we could reason, 
and before we could learn it by instruction. It seems, 
therefore, to be an immediate effect of our constitution. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 357 

Fifthly. The last topic I shall mention is, when an 
opinion is so necessary in the conduct of life, that, ivithout 
the belief of it, a man must be led into a thousand absurd- 
ities in practice, such an opinion, when we can give no 
other reason for it, may safely be taken for a first princi- 
ple. 

Thus I have endeavoured to show, that, although first 
principles are not capable of direct proof, yet differences 
that may happen with regard to them among men of can- 
dor are not without remedy ; that nature has not left us 
destitute of means by which we may discover errors of 
this kind ; and that there are ways of reasoning, with re- 
gard to first principles, by which those that are truly such 
may be distinguished from vulgar errors or prejudices.* 

* On the means of discriminating and determining first principles, 
which is one of the most difficult points in the philosophy of common 
sense, Sir W. Hamilton, in Note A, § 4, expresses himself thus: — 
"These characters, I think, may be reduced to four; — 1°, their in- 
comprehensibility; 2°, their simplicity; 3°, their necessity and absolute 
universality ; 4°, their comparative evidence and certainty. 

" 1. In reference to the first ; — a conviction is incomprehensible when 
there is merely given us in consciousness That its object is (6Vt eo-ri); 
and when we are unabJe to comprehend through a higher notion or be- 
lief, Why, or Hotc it is (Stori eo-ri)- When we are able to comprehend 
why or how a thing is, the belief of the existence of that thing is not a 
primary datum of consciousness, but a subsumption under the cognition 
or belief which affords its reason. 

" 2. As to the second ; — it is manifest that if a cognition or belief be 
made up of, and can be explicated into, a plurality of cognitions or be- 
liefs, that, as a compound, it cannot be original. 

"3. Touching the third; — necessity and universality may be regard- 
ed as coincident. For when a belief is necessary, it is, eo ipso, univer- 
sal ; and that a belief is universal is a certain index that it must be ne- 
cessary. See Leibnitz, Nouveaux Essais, Lib. I. § 4. To prove the 
necessity, the universality must, however, be absolute ; for a relative 
universality indicates no more than custom and education, howbeit the 
subjects themselves may deem that they follow only the dictates of na- 
ture. As St. Jerome has it, — Unaquaique gens hoc legem naturae pulat, 
quod didicit. 

" It is to be observed that the necessity here spoken of is of two 
kinds. There is one necessity, when we cannot construe it to our 
minds as possible, that the deliverance of consciousness should not be 
true. This logical impossibility occurs in the case of what are called 
necessary truths, — truths of reason or intelligence ; as in the law of cau- 
sality, the law of substance, and still more in the laws of identity, contra- 
diction, and excluded middle. There is another necessity, when it is not 
unthinkable that the deliverance of consciousness may possibly be false, 
but at the same time, when we cannot but admit that this deliverance is 
of such or such a purport. This is seen in the case of what are called con- 



358 JUDGMENT. 

III. Enumeration of the First Principles of Contin- 
gent Truths.] The truths that fall within the compass of 
human knowledge, whether they be self-evident, or de- 
duced from those that are self-evident, may be reduced to 
two classes. They are either necessary and immutable 
truths, whose contrary is impossible ; or they are contin- 
gent and mutable, depending upon some effect of will and 
power, which had a beginning, and may have an end. 

That a cone is the third part of a cylinder of the same 
base and the same altitude, is a necessary truth. ' It de- 
pends not upon the will and power of any being. It is 
immutably true, and the contrary impossible. That the 
sun is the centre, about w r hich the earth, and the other 
planets of our system, perform their revolutions, is a 

tingent truths, or truths of fact. Thus, for example, I can theoretically 
suppose that the external object I am conscious of in perception may be, 
in reality, nothing but a mode of mind or self. I am unable, however, to 
think that it does not appear to me — that consciousness does not com- 
pel me to regard it — as a mode of matter or not-self. And such being 
the case, I cannot practically believe the supposition I am able specula- 
tively to maintain. For I cannot believe this supposition without be- 
lieving that the last ground of all belief is not to be believed ; which is 
self-contradictory. 'Nature,' says Pascal, 'confounds the Pyrrhonist' ; 
and, among similar confessions, those of Hume, of Fichte, of Hommel, 
may suffice for an acknowledgment of the impossibility which the skep- 
tic, the idealist, the fatalist, finds in practically believing the scheme 
which he views as theoretically demonstrated. 

"4. The fourth and last character of our original beliefs is their com- 
parative evidence and certainty. This, along with the third, is well 
stated by Aristotle, — ' What appears to all, that we affirm to he; and he 
who rejects this belief will assuredly advance nothing better deserving of 
credence.' And again : — 'If we know and believe through certain orig- 
inal principles, we must know and believe these with ■paramount certain- 
ty, for the very reason that we know and believe all else through them. 
And such are the truths in regard to which the Aphrodisian says, — 
' Though some men may verbally dissent, all men are in their hearts 
agreed.' This constitutes the first of Buffier's essential qualities of pri- 
mary truths, which is, as he expresses it, 'to be so clear, that, if we at- 
tempt to prove or to disprove them, this can be done only by proposi- 
tions which are manifestly neither more evident nor more certain.' " 

Compare Buffier's First Truths, Part I. Chap. VII ; Stewart's Ele- 
ments, Part II. Chap. I.; Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, comment on 
the eighth of his Aphorisms on Spiritual Religion; Jacques, Sur le Sens 
Commvn, conune Principe et commc Milhode Philosophique, passim, pub- 
lished in Mem. de I' Acad. Royale des Sciejices Mor. et Pol., Tome I., Sa- 
vants Etrangers; Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Part I. 
Book I ; Mill's System of Logic, Book II. Chap. V. Most of these au- 
thorities treat exclusively of the first principles of necessary truths. — 
Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 359 

truth ; but it is not a necessary truth. It depends upon 
the power and will of that Being who made the sun and 
all the planets, and who gave them those motions that 
seemed best to him. 

As the minds of men are occupied much more about 
truths that are contingent than about those that are neces- 
sary, I shall first endeavour to point out the principles of 
the former kind. If the enumeration should appear to 
some redundant, to others deficient, and to others both ; 
if things, which I conceive to be first principles, should to 
others appear to be vulgar errors, or to be truths which 
derive their evidence from other truths, and therefore not 
first principles ; in these things every man must judge for 
himself. 

1. First, then, I hold, as a first principle, the existence 
of every thing of which I am conscious. 

Consciousness is an operation of the understanding of its 
own kind, and cannot be logically defined. The objects 
of it are our present pains, our pleasures, our hopes, our 
fears, our desires, our doubts, our thoughts of every kind ; 
in a word, all the passions, and all the actions and opera- 
tions of our own minds, while they are present. We may 
remember them when they are past ; but we are conscious 
of them only while they are present. 

When a man is conscious of pain, he is certain of its ex- 
istence ; when he is conscious that he doubts, or believes, 
he is certain of the existence of those operations. But 
the irresistible conviction he has of the reality of those 
operations is not the effect of reasoning ; it is immediate 
and intuitive. The existence, therefore, of those passions 
and operations of our minds, of which we are conscious, 
is a first principle, which nature requires us to believe 
upon her authority. 

If I am asked to prove that I cannot be deceived by 
consciousness, — to prove that it is not a fallacious sense, 
— I can find no proof. I cannot find any antecedent 
truth from which it is deduced, or upon which its evi- 
dence depends. It seems to disdain any such derived 
authority, and to claim my assent in its own right. If any 
man could be found so frantic as to deny that he thinks, 
while he is conscious of it, I may wonder, I may laugh, 



360 JUDGMENT. 

or I may pity him, but I cannot reason the matter with 
him. We have no common principles from which we 
may reason, and therefore can never join issue in an argu- 
ment. 

This, I think, is the only principle of common sense 
that has never directly been called in question.* It seems 
to be so firmly rooted in the minds of men, as to retain its 
authority with the greatest skeptics. Mr. Hume, after 
annihilating body and mind, time and space, action and 
causation, and even his own mind, acknowledges the 
reality of the thoughts, sensations, and passions of which 
he is conscious. 

No philosopher has attempted by any hypothesis to 
account for this consciousness of our own thoughts, and 
the certain knowledge of their real existence which ac- 
companies it. By this they seem to acknowledge, that 
this at least is an original power of the mind ; a power by 
which we not only have ideas, but original judgments, and 
the knowledge of real existence. 

I cannot reconcile this immediate knowledge of the 
operations of our own minds with Mr. Locke's theory, 
that all knowledge consists in perceiving the agreement 
and disagreement of ideas. What are the ideas, from 
whose comparison the knowledge of our own thoughts 
results ? Or what are the agreements or disagreements 
which convince a man that he is in pain when he feels it.f 

2. Another first principle, I think, is, that the thoughts 
of which I am conscious are the thoughts of a being which 
I call myself, my mind, my person. 

The thoughts and feelings of which we are conscious 
are continually changing, and the thought of this moment 
is not the thought of the last ; but something which I call 
myself remains under this change of thought. This self 

* It could not possibly be called in question. For, in doubting the 
fact of his consciousness, the skeptic must at least affirm the fact of his 
doubt ; but to affirm a doubt is to affirm the consciousness of it : the 
doubt would, therefore, be self-contradictory, — i. e.. annihilate itself. 
— H. 

t See M. Cousin's criticism on Locke's theory of knowledge, showing 
its inadequacy in respect to all immediate or ultimate cognitions, and 
all cognitions of real existences of whatever kind. Elements of Psy- 
chologij, Chap. VIII. and IX. — Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 361 

has the same relation to all the successive thoughts I am 
conscious of; they are all my thoughts ; and every thought 
which is not my thought, must be the thought of some 
other person. 

If any man asks a proof of this, I confess I can give 
none ; there is an evidence in the proposition itself which 
I am unable to resist. Shall I think, that thought can 
stand by itself without a thinking being ? or that ideas can 
feel pleasure or pain ? My nature dictates to me that it is 
impossible. And that nature has dictated the same to all 
men, appears from the structure of all languages : for in 
all languages men have expressed thinking, reasoning, 
willing, loving, hating, by personal verbs, which from 
their nature require a person who thinks, reasons, wills, 
loves, or hates. From which it appears, that men have 
been taught by nature to believe that thought requires a 
thinker, reason a reasoner, and love a lover.* 

* This is precisely what Descartes intended by his celebrated enthy 
meme, Cogito, ergo sum, — so often objected to by Reid and others, and 
so feebly and hesitatingly defended by Stewart, Essays, Ess. I. Chap. I. 
M. Cousin, in his Fragments Philosophiques, 3d ed., Tome I. p. 334 
et seq., has set the question in its true light. — "Before Spinoza and 
Reid, Gassendi had attacked the enthymeme of Descartes. 'The prop- 
osition, / think, therefore I am, supposes,' says Gassendi, 'this major, 
— That which thinks exists ; and consequently involves a begging of the 
question.' To this Descartes replies: — ' I do not beg the question, for 
1 do not suppose any 'major. I maintain that the proposition, / think, 
therefore I exist, is a particular truth which is introduced into the mind 
without recourse to any more general truth, and independently of any 
logical deduction. It is not a prejudice, but a natural judgment which 
at once and irresistibly strikes the intelligence.' ' The notion of exist- 
ence,' says he, in reply to the objections, ' is a primitive notion, not 
obtained by any syllogism, but evident in itself; and the mind discovers 
it by intuition.' Reasoning does not logically deduce existence from 
thought; but the mind cannot think without knowing itself, because 
being is given in and under thought: — Cogito, ergo sum. The certain- 
ty of thinking does not go before the certainty of existence ; the former 
contains and develops the latter; they are two contemporaneous verities 
blended in one fundamental verity. The fundamental complex verity 
is the sole principle of the Cartesian philosophy." 

But Reid would still object, " Why not begin with some fact of the 
senses, as well as with some fact of consciousness, inasmuch as both 
rest on the same evidence ? " — They do not rest on the same evidence ; 
for, as has been repeatedly intimated before, doubting the consciousness 
is the only doubt which is absolutely self-contradictory, which anni- 
hilates itself, and which, therefore, not only cannot be defended, but 
cannot be entertained. Descartes, following a method of the merits of 
which we do not now speak,was in quest of some fact or principle which 

31 



362 JUDGMENT. 

Here we must leave Mr. Hume, who conceives it to 
be a vulgar error, that, besides the thoughts we are con- 
scious of, there is a mind which is the subject of those 
thoughts. If the mind be any thing else than impressions 
and ideas, it must be a word without a meaning. The 
mind, therefore, according to this philosopher, is a word 
which signifies a bundle of perceptions ; or, when he 
defines it more accurately, "it is that succession of re- 
lated ideas and impressions, of which we have an intimate 
memory and consciousness." 

I am, therefore, that succession of related ideas and 
impressions of which 1 have the intimate memory and 
consciousness. But who is the / that has this memory 
and consciousness of a succession of ideas and impres- 
sions ? Why, it is nothing but that succession itself. 
Hence I learn, that this succession of ideas and impres- 
sions intimately remembers, and is conscious of itself. I 
would wish to be further instructed, whether the impres- 
sions remember and are conscious of the ideas, or the 
ideas remember and are conscious of the impressions, or 
if both remember and are conscious of both ? and whether 
the ideas remember those that come after them, as well as 
those that were before them ? These are questions natu- 
rally arising from this system, that have not yet been 
explained. 

he could not possibly doubt even in speculation, and such a fact or 
principle he found in the testimony of consciousness alone. This, 
therefore, he not only made his point of departure, but the point aVnppui 
of his whole system, professing to accept nothing but the facts of con- 
sciousness and what these facts either contain or presuppose. In the 
same spirit one of the early English followers of Descartes wrote : — 
" If we reflect but upon our own souls, how manifestly do the species 
[notions] of reason, freedom, perception, and the like, offer themselves 
to us, whereby we may know a thousand times more distinctly what 
our souls are than what our bodies are. For the former we know by an 
immediate converse with ourselves, and a distinct sense of their opera- 
tions ; whereas all our knowledge of the body is little better than 
merely historical, which we gather up by scraps and piecemeal from 
more doubtful and uncertain experiments which we make of them : but 
the notions which we have of a mind, i. e. something within us that 
thinks, apprehends, reasons, and discourses, are so clear, and distinct 
from all those notions which we fasten upon a body, that we can easily 
conceive that, if all body-being in the world were destroyed, yet we 
might then as well subsist as now we do." — Smith's Select Discourses, 
Disc. IV. Chap. VI. — Ed 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 363 

This, however, is clear, that this succession of ideas 
and impressions not only remembers and is conscious, but 
that it judges, reasons, affirms, denies ; nay, that it eats 
and drinks, and is sometimes merry and sometimes sad. 
If these things can be ascribed to a succession of ideas 
and impressions, in a consistency with common sense, I 
should be very glad to know what is nonsense. 

The scholastic philosophers have been wittily ridiculed, 
by representing them as disputing upon this question, — 
JVum chimcera bombinans in vacuo possit comedere secun- 
das intentiones ? And I believe the wit of man cannot 
invent a more ridiculous question. But, if Mr. Hume's 
philosophy be admitted, this question deserves to be 
treated more gravely : for if, as we learn from this phi- 
losophy, a succession of ideas and impressions may eat, 
and drink, and be merry, I see no good reason why a 
chimera, which, if not the same, is of kin to an idea, may 
not chew the cud upon that kind of food which the school- 
men call second intentions.* 

3. Another first principle I take to be, that those 
things did really happen which I distinctly remember. 

This has one of the surest marks of a first principle ; 
for no man ever pretended to prove it, and yet no man in 
his wits calls it in question. The testimony of memory, 
like that of consciousness, is immediate ; it claims our 
assent upon its own authority.! 

Suppose that a learned counsel, in defence of a client 
against the concurring testimony of witnesses of credit, 
should insist upon a new topic to invalidate the testimony. 
" Admitting," says he, " the integrity of the witnesses, 
and that they distinctly remember what they have given in 
evidence, it does not follow that the prisoner is guilty. 

* All this criticism of Hume proceeds on the erroneous hypothesis 
that he was a dogmatist. He was a skeptic, — that is, he accepted the 
principles asserted by the prevalent dogmatism; and only showed that 
such and such conclusions were, on these principles, inevitable. The 
absurdity was not Hume's, but Locke's. This is the kind of criticism, 
however, with which Hume is generally assailed. — H. 

t The datum of memory does not stand upon the same ground as the 
datum of simple consciousness. In so far as memory is consciousness, 
it cannot be denied. We cannot, without contradiction, deny the fact 
of memory as a present consciousness; but we may, without contradic- 
tion, suppose that the past given therein is only an illusion of the 
present. — H. 



364 JUDGMENT. 

It has never been proved that the most distinct memory 
may not be fallacious. Show me any necessary connec- 
tion between that act of the mind which we call memory, 
and the past existence of the event remembered. No 
man has ever offered a shadow of argument to prove such 
a connection ; yet this is one link of the chain of proof 
against the prisoner ; and if it have no strength, the whole 
proof falls to the ground : until this, therefore, be made 
evident, until it can be proved, that we may safely rest 
upon the testimony of memory for the truth of past events, 
no judge or jury can justly take away the life of a citizen 
upon so doubtful a point." 

I believe we may take it for granted, that this argument 
from a learned counsel would have no other effect upon 
the judge or jury, than to convince them that he was 
disordered in his judgment. Counsel is allowed to plead 
every thing for a client that is fit to persuade or to move ; 
yet 'I believe no counsel ever had the boldness to plead 
this topic. And for what reason ? For no other reason, 
surely, but because it is absurd. Now, what is absurd at 
the bar is so in the philosopher's chair. What would be 
ridiculous, if delivered to a jury of honest, sensible citi- 
zens, is no less so when delivered gravely in a philosophi- 
cal dissertation. 

4. Another first principle is our own personal identity 
and continued existence, as far back as ive remember any 
thing distinctly. 

This we know immediately, and not by reasoning. It 
seems, indeed, to be a part of the testimony of memory. 
Every thing we remember has such a relation to our- 
selves, as to imply necessarily our existence at the time 
remembered. And there cannot be a more palpable 
absurdity than that a man should remember what hap- 
pened before he existed. He must therefore have existed 
as far back as he remembers any thing distinctly, if his 
memory be not fallacious. This principle, therefore, is 
so connected with the last mentioned, that it may be 
doubtful whether both ought not to be included in one. 
Let every one judge of this as he sees reason. The 
proper notion of identity, and the opinions of Mr. Locke 
on this subject, have been considered before under the 
head of Memory. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 365 

5. Another first principle, I think, is, that we have some 
degree of poiver over our actions, and the determinations of 
our will. 

All power must be derived from the Fountain of 
power, and of every good gift. Upon his good pleasure 
its continuance depends, and it is always subject to his 
control. Beings to whom God has given any degree of 
power, and understanding to direct them to the proper 
use of it, must be accountable to their Maker. But those 
who are intrusted with no power can have no account to 
make ; for all good conduct consists in the right use of 
power ; all bad conduct in the abuse of it. To call to 
account a being who never was intrusted with any degree 
of power, is an absurdity no less than it would be to call 
to an account an inanimate being. We are sure, there- 
fore, if we have any account to make to the Author of 
our being, that we must have some degree of power, 
which, as far as it is properly used, entitles us to his 
approbation ; and, when abused, renders us obnoxious to 
his displeasure. 

It is not easy to say in what way we first get the notion 
or idea of poiver. It is neither an object of sense nor of 
consciousness. We see events, one succeeding another ; 
but we see not the power by which they are produced. 
We are conscious of the operations of our minds ; but 
power is not an operation of mind. If we had no notions 
but such as are furnished by the external senses, and by 
consciousness, it seems to be impossible that we should 
ever have any conception of power. Accordingly, Mr. 
Hume, who has reasoned the most accurately upon this 
hypothesis, denies that we have any idea of power, and 
clearly refutes the account given by Mr. Locke of the 
origin of this idea. 

But it is in vain to reason from an hypothesis against a 
fact, the truth of which every man may see by attending 
to his own thoughts. It is evident, that all men, very 
early in life, not only have an idea of power, but a con- 
viction that they have some degree of it in themselves : 
for this conviction is necessarily implied in many operations 
of mind, which are familiar to every man, and without 
which no man can act the part of a reasonable being. 
31 * 



366 JUDGMENT. 

First. It is implied in every act of volition. " Voli- 
tion, it is plain," says Mr. Locke, " is an ad of the mind, 
knowingly exerting that dominion which it takes itself to 
have over any part of the man, by employing it in, or 
withholding it from, any particular action." Every volition 
therefore implies a conviction of power to do the action 
willed. A man may desire to make a visit to the moon, 
or to the planet Jupiter ; but nothing but insanity could 
make him will to do so. And if even insanity produced 
this effect, it must be by making him think it to be in his 
power. 

Secondly. This conviction is implied in all deliberation ; 
for no man in his wits deliberates whether he shall do what 
he believes not to be in his power. 

Thirdly. The same conviction is implied in every res- 
olution or purpose formed in consequence of deliberation. 
A man may as well form a resolution to pull the moon out 
of her sphere, as to do the most insignificant action which 
he believes not to be in his power. The same thing 
may be said of every promise or contract wherein a man 
plights his faith ; for he is not an honest man who prom- 
ises what he does not believe he has power to perform. 

As these operations imply a belief of some degree of 
power in ourselves, so there are others equally common 
and familiar, which imply a like belief with regard to 
others. When we impute to a man any action or omis- 
sion, as a ground of approbation or of blame, we must 
believe he had no power to do otherwise. The same is 
implied in all advice, exhortation, command, and rebuke, 
and in every case in which we rely upon his fidelity in 
performing any engagement, or executing any trust. 

It is not more evident that mankind have a conviction 
of the existence of a material world, than that they have 
the conviction of some degree of power in themselves, 
and in others, every one over his own actions, and the 
determinations of his will, — a conviction so early, so 
general, and so interwoven with the whole of human con- 
duct, that it must be the natural effect of our constitution, 
and intended by the x\uthor of our being to guide our 
actions. It resembles our conviction of the existence of 
a material world in this respect also, that even those who 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 367 

reject it in speculation find themselves under a necessity 
of being governed by it in their practice ; and thus it will 
always happen when philosophy contradicts first prin- 
ciples.* 

6. Another first principle is, that the natural faculties, 
by which we distinguish truth from error, are not falla- 
cious. 

If any man should demand a proof of this, it is impos- 
sible to satisfy him. For suppose it should be mathe- 
matically demonstrated, this would signify nothing in this 
case ; because, to judge of a demonstration, a man must 
trust his faculties, and take for granted the very thing in 
question. If a man's honesty were called in question, it 
would be ridiculous to refer it to the man's own word 
whether he be honest or not. The same absurdity there 
is in attempting to prove, by any kind of reasoning, prob- 
able or demonstrative, that our reason is not fallacious, 
since the very point in question is whether reasoning may 
be trusted. 

Descartes certainly made a false step in this matter ; 
for having suggested this doubt among others, — that what- 
ever evidence he might have from his consciousness, his 
senses, his memory, or his reason, yet possibly some 
malignant being had given him those faculties on purpose 
to impose upon him ; and, therefore, that they are not to 
be trusted without a proper voucher, — to remove this 
doubt, he endeavours to prove the being of a Deity who 
is no deceiver : whence he concludes, that the faculties 
he had given him are true and worthy to be trusted. 

It is strange that so acute a reasoner did not perceive, 
that in this reasoning there is evidently a begging of the 
question. For if our faculties be fallacious, why may they 
not deceive us in this reasoning as well as in others 9 And 
if they are to be trusted in this instance without a voucher, 
why not in others ? Every kind of reasoning for the 
veracity of our faculties amounts to no more than taking 
their own testimony for their veracity, and this we must 

* This subject is discussed by Reid more at length in his Essays on the 
Active Powers of Man, Ess. I. See also Stewart's Philosophy of the Active 
and Moral Potvers, Walker's edition, Book II. Chap. VI. ; Cousin's El- 
ements of Psychology, Chap. IV. ; and Bowen's Lowell Lectures, Lect. 
IV. — Ed. 



368 JUDGMENT. 

do implicitly, until God give us new faculties to sit in 
judgment upon the old ; and the reason why Descartes 
satisfied himself with so weak an argument for the truth of 
his faculties most probably was, that he never seriously 
doubted of it. 

If any truth can be said to be prior to all others in the 
order of nature, this seems to have the best claim : be- 
cause in every instance of assent, whether upon intuitive, 
demonstrative, or probable evidence, the truth of our 
faculties is taken for granted, and is, as it were, one of 
the premises on which our assent is grounded.* 

How, then, come we to be assured of this fundamental 
truth on which all others rest ? Perhaps evidence, as in 
many other respects it resembles light, so in this also, — 
that as light, which is the discoverer of all visible objects, 
discovers itself at the same time, so evidence, which is the 
voucher for all truth, vouches for itself at the same time. 
This, however, is certain, that such is the constitution 
of the human mind, that evidence discerned by us forces 
a corresponding degree of assent. And a man who per- 
fectly understood a just syllogism, without believing that 
the conclusion follows from the premises, would be a 
greater monster than a man born without hands or feet. 

We are born under a necessity of trusting to our rea- 
soning and judging powers ; and a real belief of their 
being fallacious cannot be maintained for any considerable 
time by the greatest skeptic, because it is doing violence 
to our constitution. It is like a man's walking upon his 
hands, a feat which some men upon occasion can exhibit ; 
but no man ever made a long journey in this manner. 
Cease to admire his dexterity, and he will, like other 
men, betake himself to his legs. 

We may here take notice of a property of the principle 
under consideration, that seems to be common to it with 
many other first principles, and which can hardly be 
found in any principle that is built solely upon reasoning ; 
and that is, that in most men it produces its effect without 
ever being attended to, or made an object of thought. No 

* There is a presumption in favor of the veracity of the primary data 
of consciousness. This can only be rebutted by showing that these 
facts are contradictory. Skepticism attempts to show this on the princi- 
ples which dogmatism postulates. — H. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 369 

man ever thinks of this principle, unless when he considers 
the grounds of skepticism ; yet it invariably governs his 
opinions. When a man in the common course of life 
gives credit to the testimony of his senses, his memory, 
or his reason, he does not put the question to himself, 
whether these faculties may deceive him ; yet the trust 
he reposes in them supposes an inward conviction, that, 
in that instance at least, they do not deceive him. 

It is another property of this and of many first princi- 
ples, that they force assent in particular instances, more 
powerfully than when they are turned into a general 
proposition. Many skeptics have denied every general 
principle of science, excepting, perhaps, the existence of 
our present thoughts ; yet these men reason, and refute, 
and prove, they assent and dissent in particular cases. 
They use reasoning to overturn all reasoning, and judge 
that they ought to have no judgment, and see clearly that 
they are blind. Many have in general maintained that the 
senses are fallacious, yet there never was found a man so 
skeptical as not to trust his senses in particular instances, 
when his safety required it ; and it may be observed of 
those who have professed skepticism, that their skepticism 
lies in generals, while in particulars they are no less dog- 
matical than others.* 

7. Another first principle I take to be, that certain fea- 
tures of the countenance-, sounds of the voice, and gestures 
of the body, indicate certain thoughts and dispositions of 
mind . 

That many operations of the mind have their natural 
signs in the countenance, voice, and gesture, I suppose 
every man will admit. Omnis enim motus animi, says 
Cicero, suum quemdam hahet a naturd vultum, et vocem, 
et gestum. The only question is, whether we understand 
the signification of those signs by the constitution of our 
nature, by a kind of natural perception similar to the per- 
ceptions of sense ; or whether we gradually learn the 
signification of such signs from experience, as we learn 
that smoke is a sign of fire, or that the freezing of water 
is a sign of cold. I take the first to be the truth. 

* Compare Jouffroy's Introduction to Ethics, Lect. IX. ; and Javary, 
De la Certitude, passim. — Ed. 



370 JUDGMENT. 

It seems to me incredible, that the notions men have of 
the expression of features, voice, and gesture are entirely . 
the fruit of experience. Children, almost as soon as 
born, may be frighted and thrown into fits by a threatening 
or angry tone of voice. I knew a man who could make 
an infant cry, by whistling a melancholy tune in the same 
or in the next room ; and again, by altering his key, and 
the strain of his music, could make the child leap and 
dance for joy. 

It is not by experience surely that we learn the expres- 
sion of music ; for its operation is commonly strongest 
the first time we hear it. One air expresses mirth and 
festivity ; so that, when we hear it, it is with difficulty we 
can forbear to dance. Another is sorrowful and solemn. 
One inspires with tenderness and love ; another with rage 
and fury. 

" Hear how Timotheiis' varied lays surprise, 
And bid alternate passions fall and rise ; 
While at each change, the son of Lybian Jove 
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love. 
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, 
Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow. 
Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found, 
And the world's victor stood subdued by sound." 

The countenance and gesture have an expression no 
less strong and natural than the voice. The first time one 
sees a stern and fierce look, a contracted brow, and a 
menacing posture, he concludes that the person is inflamed 
with anger. Shall we say, that, previous to experience, 
the most hostile countenance has as agreeable an appear- 
ance as the most gentle and benign ? This surely would 
contradict all experience ; for we know that an angry 
countenance will fright a child in the cradle. Who has 
not observed, that children, very early, are able to distin- 
guish what is said to them in jest from what is said in 
earnest, by the tone of the voice, and the features of the 
face ? They judge by these natural signs, even when 
they seem to contradict the artificial. 

If it were by experience that we learn the meaning of 
features, and sound, and gesture, it might be expected 
that we should recollect the time when we first learnt 
those lessons, or, at least, some of such a multitude. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 371 

Those who give attention to the operations of children 
can easily discover the time when they have their earliest 
notices from experience, — such as that flame will burn, 
or that knives will cut. But no man is able to recollect 
in himself, or to observe in others, the time when the ex- 
pression of the face, voice, and gesture was learned. 

Nay, I apprehend that it is impossible that this should 
be learned from experience. When we see the sign, and 
see the thing signified always conjoined with it, experience 
may be the instructor, and teach us how that sign is to be 
interpreted. But how shall experience instruct us when 
we see the sign only, — when the thing signified is invisi- 
ble ? Now this is the case here ; the thoughts and passions 
of the mind, as well as the mind itself, are invisible, and 
therefore their connection with any sensible sign cannot 
be first discovered by experience ; there must be some 
earlier source of this knowledge. 

Nature seems to have given to men a faculty or sense, 
by which this connection is perceived. And the opera- 
tion of this sense is very analogous to that of the external 
senses. When I grasp an ivory ball in my hand, I feel a 
certain sensation of touch. In the sensation there is 
nothing external, nothing corporeal. The sensation is 
neither round nor hard ; it is an act or feeling of the 
mind, from which I cannot, by reasoning, infer the exist- 
ence of any body. But, by the constitution of my 
nature, the sensation carries along with it the conception 
and belief of a round, hard body really existing in my hand. 
In like manner, when I see the features of an expressive 
face, I see only figure and color variously modified. But, 
by the constitution of my nature, the visible object brings 
along with it the conception and belief of a certain passion 
or sentiment in the mind of the person. In the former 
case, a sensation of touch is the sign, and the hardness 
and roundness of the body I grasp is signified by that sen- 
sation. In the latter case, the features of the person are 
the sign, and the passion or sentiment is signified by it. 

The power of natural signs, to signify the sentiments 
and passions of the mind, is seen in the signs of dumb 
persons, who can make themselves to be understood in a 
considerable degree, even by those who are wholly inex- 
perienced in that language. 



372 JUDGMENT. 

It is seen in the traffic which has been frequently 
carried on between people that have no common acquired 
language. They can buy and sell, and ask and refuse, 
and show a friendly or hostile disposition by natural signs. 

It was seen still more in the actors among the ancients, 
who performed the gesticulation upon the stage, while 
others recited the words. To such a pitch was this art 
carried, that we are told Cicero and Roscius used to con- 
tend whether the orator could express any thing by words 
which the actor could not express in dumb show by ges- 
ticulation ; and whether the same sentence or thought 
could not be acted in all the variety of ways in which the 
orator could express it in words. 

But the most surprising exhibition of this kind was that 
of the pantomimes among the Romans, who acted plays, 
or scenes of plays, without any recitation, and yet could 
be perfectly understood. And here it deserves our 
notice, that, although it required much study and practice 
in the pantomimes to excel in their art, yet it required 
neither study nor practice in the spectators to understand 
them. It was a natural language, and therefore under- 
stood by all men, whether Romans, Greeks, or barba- 
rians, by the learned and the unlearned. Lucian relates, 
that a king, whose dominions bordered upon the Euxine 
Sea, happening to be at Rome in the reign of Nero, and 
having seen a pantomime act, begged him of Nero, that 
he might use him in his intercourse with all the nations in 
his neighbourhood. " For," said he, " I am obliged to 
employ I don't know how many interpreters, in order to 
keep a correspondence with neighbours who speak many 
languages, and do not understand mine ; but this fellow 
will make them all understand him." 

For these reasons, I conceive, it must be granted, not 
only that there is a connection established by nature be- 
tween certain signs in the countenance, voice, and gesture, 
and the thoughts and passions of the mind ; but also, that, 
by our constitution, we understand the meaning of those 
signs, and from the sign conclude the existence of the 
thing signified.* 

* Compare Condillac, Essaisur V Origine des Connoissances Humaines, 
II e Partie (translated by Nugent, Jin Essay on the Origin of Human 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 373 

8. Another first principle appears to me to be, that 
there is a certain regard due to human testimony in mat- 
ters of fact, and even to human authority in matters of 
opinion. 

Before we are capable of reasoning about testimony or 
authority, there are many things which it concerns us to 
know, for which we can have no other evidence. The 
wise Author of nature has planted in the human mind a 
propensity to rely upon this evidence before we can give 
a reason for doing so. This, indeed, puts our judgment 
almost entirely in the power of those who are about us, in. 
the first period of life ; but this is necessary both to our 
preservation and to our improvement. If children were 
so framed, as to pay no regard to testimony or to author- 
ity, they must, in the literal sense, "perish for lack of 
knowledge." It is not more necessary that they should 
be fed before they can feed themselves, than that they 
should be instructed in many things before they can dis- 
cover them by their own judgment. 

But when our faculties ripen, we find reason to check 
that propensity to yield to testimony and to authority, 
which was so necessary and so natural in the first period 
of life. We learn to reason about the regard due to them, 
and see it to be a childish weakness to lay more stress 
upon them than reason justifies. Yet, I believe, to the 
end of life, most men are more apt to go into this extreme 
than into the contrary ; and the natural propensity still re- 
tains some force. 

The natural principles, by which our judgments and 
opinions are regulated before we come to the use of rea- 
son, seem to be no less necessary to such a being as man, 
than those natural instincts which the Author of nature 
has given us to regulate our actions during that period.* 

9. The last principle of contingent truths I mention is, 
that, in the phenomena of nature, what is to be ivill proba- 
bly be like to what has been in similar circumstances. 

Knoiohdge). Upham's Mental Philosophy, Appendix to Vol. II. Chap. 
I. — Ed. 

* See more on this topic in Campbell's Dissertation on Miracles, Part 
I. Sect. I., and Chalmers's Evidences of the Christian Revelation, Book 
I. Chap. III.— Ed. 

32 



374 JUDGMENT. 

We must have this conviction as soon as we are capa- 
ble of learning any thing from experience ; for all experi- 
ence is grounded upon a belief that the future will be like 
the past. Take away this principle, and the experience 
of a hundred years makes us no wiser with regard to 
what is to come. 

This is one of those principles, which, when we grow 
up and observe the course of nature, we can confirm by 
reasoning. We perceive that nature is governed by fixed 
laws, and that, if it were not so, there could be no such 
thing as prudence in human conduct ; there would be no 
fitness in any means to promote an end ; and what, on one 
occasion, promoted it, might as probably, on another oc- 
casion, obstruct it. But the principle is necessary for us 
before we are able to discover it by reasoning, and there- 
fore is made a part of our constitution, and produces its 
effects before the use of reason. 

This principle remains in all its force when we come to 
the use of reason; but we learn to be more cautious in the 
application of it. We observe more carefully the circum- 
stances on which the past event depended, and learn to 
distinguish them from those which were accidentally con- 
joined with it. In order to this, a number of experi- 
ments, varied in their circumstances, is often necessary. 
Sometimes a single experiment is thought sufficient to es- 
tablish a general conclusion. Thus, when it w T as once 
found that, in a certain degree of cold, quicksilver be- 
came a hard and malleable metal, there was good reason 
to think, that the same degree of cold would always pro- 
duce this effect to the end of the world. 

I need hardly mention, that the whole fabric of natural 
philosophy is built upon this principle, and, if it be taken 
away, must tumble down to the foundation. Therefore 
the great Newton lays it down as an axiom, or as one of 
his laws of philosophizing, in these words : — Effectuum 
naturalium ejusdem generis easdem esse causas. This is 
what every man assents to as soon as he understands it, 
and no man asks a reason for it. It has therefore the 
most genuine marks of a first principle. 

It is very remarkable, that although all our expectation 
of what is to happen in the course of nature is derived 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 375 

from the belief of this principle, yet no man thinks of ask- 
ing what is the ground of this belief. Mr. Hume, I think, 
was the first * who put this question ; and he has shown 
clearly and invincibly, that it is neither grounded upon 
reasoning, nor has that kind of intuitive evidence which 
mathematical axioms have. It is not a necessary truth. 

He has endeavoured to account for it upon his own prin- 
ciples. It is not my business at present to examine the 
account he has given of this universal belief of mankind ; 
because, whether his account of it be just or not (and I 
think it is not), yet, as this belief is universal among man- 
kind, and is not grounded upon any antecedent reasoning, 
but upon the constitution of the mind itself, it must be ac- 
knowledged to be a first principle, in the sense in which I 
use that word.f 

IV. First Principles of Necessary Truths.~\ About 
most of the first principles of necessary truths there has 
been no dispute, and therefore it is the less necessary to 
dwell upon them. It will be sufficient to divide them in- 
to different classes ; to mention some, by way of speci- 
men, in each class ; and to make some remarks on those 
of which the truth has been called in question. 

They may, I think, most properly be divided accord- 
ing to the sciences to which they belong. 

1. There are some first principles that may be called 
grammatical ; such as, that every adjective in a sentence 
must belong to some substantive expressed or understood ; 
that every complete sentence must have a verb. 

Those who have attended to the structure of language, 
and formed distinct notions of the nature and use of the 
various parts of speech, perceive, without reasoning, that 
these, and many other such principles, are necessarily 
true. 

2. There are logical axioms ; such as, that any con- 

* Hume was not the first : but on the various opinions touching the 
ground of our expectancy, I cannot touch. — H. 

t Compare Stewart's Elements, Part I. Chap. IV. Sect. 5., and Es- 
says, Ess. II. Chap. II. ; Brown's Philosophy of the Mind, Lect. VI., and 
Cause and Effect, Parts III. and IV.; and Bailey, On the Pursuit of 
Truth, Essay III. — J. S. Mill contends for the empirical origin of this 
principle, System of Logic, Book III. Chap. III. and XXI. — Ed. 



376 JUDGMENT. 

texture of words, which does not make a proposition, is nei- 
ther true nor false ; that every proposition is either true or 
false ; that no proposition can be both true and false at the 
same time ; that reasoning in a circle proves nothing ; that 
whatever may be truly affirmed of a genus, may be truly 
affirmed of all the species and all the individuals belong- 
ing to that genus. 

3. Every one knows there are mathematical axioms. 
Mathematicians have, from the days of Euclid, very wise- 
ly laid down the axioms or first principles on which they 
reason. And the effect which this appears to -have had 
upon the stability and happy progress of this science gives 
no small encouragement to attempt to lay the foundation 
of other sciences in a similar manner, as far as we are 
able.* 

Mr. Hume has discovered, as he apprehends, a weak 
side, even in mathematical axioms ; and thinks, that it is 
not strictly true, for instance, that two right lines can cut 
one another in one point only. The principle he reasons 
from is, that every simple idea is a copy of a preceding 
impression ; and therefore, in its precision and accuracy, 
can never go beyond its original. From which he rea- 
sons in this manner : — No man ever saw or felt a line so 
straight, that it might not cut another, equally straight, in 
two or more points. Therefore there can be no idea of 
such a line. The ideas that are most essential to geome- 
try, such as those of equality, of a straight line, and of a 
square surface, are far, he says, from being distinct and 
determinate ; and the definitions destroy the pretended 
demonstrations. Thus, mathematical demonstration is 
found to be a rope of sand. 

I agree with this acute author, that, if we could form 
no notion of points, lines, and surfaces more accurate 
than those we see and handle, there could be no mathe- 
matical demonstration. But every man that has under- 
standing, by analyzing, by abstracting, and compounding 
the rude materials exhibited by his senses, can fabricate, 
in his own mind, those elegant and accurate forms of 

* On mathematical axioms, see Stewart's Elements, Part II. Chap. I. 
§§1, 2; Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Book II. 
Chap. V.; Mill's System of Logic, Book II. Chap. V. and VI. — Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 377 

mathematical lines, surfaces, and solids. If a man finds 
himself incapable of forming a precise and determinate no- 
tion of the figure which mathematicians call a cube, he not 
only is no mathematician, but is incapable of being one. 
But, if he has a precise and determinate notion of that 
figure, he must perceive that it is terminated by six math- 
ematical surfaces, perfectly square, and perfectly equal. 
He must perceive that these surfaces are terminated by 
twelve mathematical lines, perfectly straight, and perfect- 
ly equal, and that those lines are terminated by eight math- 
ematical points. 

When a man is conscious of having these conceptions 
distinct and determinate, as every mathematician is, it is 
in vain to bring metaphysical arguments to convince him 
that they are not distinct. You may as well bring argu- 
ments to convince a man racked with pain, that he feels 
no pain. Every theory that is inconsistent with our hav- 
ing accurate notions of mathematical lines, surfaces, and 
solids, must be false. 

4. I think there are axioms, even in matters of taste. 
Notwithstanding the variety found among men, in taste, 
there are, I apprehend, some common principles, even in 
matters of this kind. I never heard of any man who 
thought it a beauty in a human face to want a nose, or an 
eye, or to have the mouth on one side. How many ages 
have passed since the days of Homer ? Yet, in this long 
tract of ages, there never was found a man who took 
Thersites for a beauty. 

The Fine Arts are very properly called the Arts of 
Taste, because the principles of both are the same ; and 
in the fine arts, we find no less agreement among those 
who practise them than among other artists. No work of 
taste can be either relished or understood by those who 
do not agree with the author in the principles of taste. 
Homer, and Virgil, and Shakspeare, and Milton, had the 
same taste ; and all men who have been acquainted with 
their writings, and agree in the admiration of them, must 
have the same taste. The fundamental rules of poetry 
and music and painting, and dramatic action and elo- 
quence, have been always the same, and will be so to the 
end of the world. 

32* 



378 JUDGMENT. 

The variety we find among men in matters of taste is 
easily accounted for, consistently with what we have ad- 
vanced. There is a taste that is acquired, and a taste 
that is natural. This holds with respect both to the ex- 
ternal sense of taste and the internal. Habit and fashion 
have a powerful influence upon both. 

Of tastes that are natural, there are some that may be 
called rational, others that are merely animal. Children 
are delighted with brilliant and gaudy colors, with romp- 
ing and noisy mirth, with feats of agility, strength, or cun- 
ning ; and savages have much the same taste as children. 
But there are tastes that are more intellectual. It is the 
dictate of our rational nature, that love and admiration are 
misplaced when there is no intrinsic worth in the object. 
In those operations of taste which are rational, we judge 
of the real worth and excellence of the object, and our 
love or admiration is guided by that judgment. In such 
operations there is judgment as well as feeling, and the 
feeling depends upon the judgment we form of the object. 
I do not maintain that taste, so far as it is acquired, or so 
far as it is merely animal, can be reduced to principles. 
But as far as it is founded on judgment, it certainly may. 
The virtues, the graces, the muses, have a beauty that is 
intrinsic. It lies not in the feelings of the spectator, but 
in the real excellence of the object. If we do not per- 
ceive their beauty, it is owing to the defect or to the per- 
version of our faculties. 

And as there is an original beauty in certain moral and 
intellectual qualities, so there is a borrowed and derived 
beauty in the natural signs and expressions of such quali- 
ties. The features of the human face, the modulations of 
the voice, and the proportions, attitudes, and gestures of 
the body, are all natural expressions of good or bad qual- 
ities of the person, and derive a beauty or a deformity 
from the qualities which they express. Works of art ex- 
press some quality of the artist, and often derive an addi- 
tional beauty from their utility or fitness for their end. Of 
such things there are some that ought to please, and oth- 
ers that ought to displease. If they do not, it is owing to 
some defect in the spectator. But what has real excel- 
lence will always please those who have a correct judg- 
ment and a sound heart. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 379 

The sum of what has been said upon this subject is, 
that, setting aside the tastes which men acquire by habit 
and fashion, there is a natural taste, which is partly ani- 
mal and partly rational. With regard to the first, all we 
can say is, that the Author of nature, for wise reasons, 
has formed us so as to receive pleasure from the contem- 
plation of certain objects, and disgust from others, before 
we are capable of perceiving any real excellence in one, 
or defect in the other. But that taste which we may call 
rational, is that part of our constitution by which we are 
made to receive pleasure from the contemplation of what 
we conceive to be excellent in its kind, the pleasure being 
annexed to this judgment, and regulated by it. This taste 
may be true or false, according as it is founded on a true 
or false judgment. And if it may be true or false, it must 
have first principles.* 

5. There are also first principles in morals. That an 
unjust action has more demerit than an ungenerous one ; 
that a generous action has more merit than a merely just 
one ; that no man ought to be blamed for what it ivas not 
in his power to hinder ; that we ought not to do to others 
what we would think unjust or unfair to be done to us in 
like circumstances : these are moral axioms, and many 
others might be named which appear to me to have no 
less evidence than those of mathematics. 

Some perhaps may think, that our determinations, ei- 
ther in matters of taste or in morals, ought not to be ac- 
counted necessary truths : that they are grounded upon 
the constitution of that faculty which we call taste, and of 
that which we call the moral sense or conscience ; which 
faculties might have been so constituted as to have given 
determinations different, or even contrary, to those they 
now give : that, as there is nothing sweet or bitter in itself, 
but according as it agrees or disagrees with the external 
sense called taste, so there is nothing beautiful or ugly in 
itself, but according as it agrees or disagrees with the in- 

* Compare Karnes's Elements of Criticism, Chap. XXV. ; Sir Joshua 
Reynolds's Discourses, Disc. VII. ; Edinburgh Review, Vol. XVIII. p. 
43 et seq. , Cousin, Sur le Fondement des Idies Msolues, Lemons XIX. et 
XX. (Cousin's Chapters on Beauty have been translated by J. C. Dan- 
iel, The Philosophy of the Beautiful.) — Ed. 



380 JUDGMENT. 

ternal sense, which we also call taste ; and nothing moral- 
ly good or ill in itself, but according as it agrees or disa- 
grees with our moral sense. 

This, indeed, is a system, with regard to morals and 
taste, which has been supported in modern times by great 
authorities. And if this system be true, the consequence 
must be, that there can be no principles, either of taste or 
of morals, that are necessary truths. For, according to 
this system, all our determinations, both with regard to 
matters of taste and with regard to morals, are reduced 
to matters of fact, — to such, I mean, as these, that by our 
constitution we have on such occasions certain agreeable 
feelings, and on other occasions certain disagreeable feel- 
ings. 

But I cannot help being of a contrary opinion, being 
persuaded that a man who determined that polite behav- 
iour has great deformity, and that there is a great beauty 
in rudeness and ill breeding, would judge wrong, whatever 
his feelings were. In like manner, I cannot help think- 
ing, that a man who determined that there is more moral 
worth in cruelty, perfidy, and injustice, than in generosity, 
justice, prudence, and temperance, would judge wrong, 
whatever his constitution was. And if it be true that 
there is judgment in our determinations of taste and of 
morals, it must be granted, that what is true or false in 
morals, or in matters of taste, is necessarily so. For this 
reason, I have ranked the first principles of morals and of 
taste under the class of necessary truths.* 

6. The last class of first principles I shall mention, we 
may call metaphysical. 

I shall particularly consider three of these, because they 
have been called in question by Mr. Hume. 

(1.) The first is, that the qualities ichich loe perceive by 
our senses must have a subject, which we call body, and 
that the thoughts we are conscious of must have a subject, 
lohich we call mind. 

It is not more evident that two and two make four, than 
it is that figure cannot exist, unless there be something 

* Compare Bentham's Principles of Morals and Legislation, Chap. 
II.; Jouffroy's Introduction to Ethics, Lect. XX. ; Whewell's Lectures 
on Systematic Morality, Lect. II. and III. — Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 3S1 

that is figured, nor motion without something that is moved. 
I not only perceive figure and motion, but I perceive them 
to be qualities : they have a necessary relation to some- 
thing in which they exist as their subject. The difficulty 
which some philosophers have found in admitting this, is 
entirely owing to the theory of ideas. A subject of the 
sensible qualities which we perceive by our senses, is not 
an idea either of sensation or of consciousness ; therefore, 
say they, we have no such idea. Or, in the style of Mr. 
Hume, From tohat impression is the idea of substance de- 
rived 9 It is not a copy of any impression ; therefore 
there is no such idea. 

The distinction between sensible qualities and the sub- 
stance to which they belong, and between thought and the 
mind that thinks, is not the invention of philosophers ; it is 
found in the structure of all languages, and therefore must 
be common to all men who speak with understanding. 
And I believe no man, however skeptical he may be in 
speculation, can talk on the common affairs of life for half 
an hour, without saying things that imply his belief of the 
reality of these distinctions. 

Mr. Locke acknowledges, " That we cannot conceive 
how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone ; 
and therefore we suppose them to exist in, and to be sup- 
ported by, some common subject." In his Essay, in- 
deed, some of his expressions seem to leave it dubious, 
whether this belief that sensible qualities must have a sub- 
ject be a true judgment, or a vulgar prejudice. But in 
his first letter to the Bishop of Worcester, he removes 
this doubt, and quotes many passages of his Essay, to 
show that he neither denied nor doubted of the existence 
of substances, both thinking and material ; and that he be- 
lieved their existence on the same ground the Bishop did, 
to wit, "on the repugnancy to our conceptions, that 
modes and accidents should subsist by themselves." He 
offers no proof of this repugnancy ; nor, I think, can any 
proof of it be given, because it is a first principle. 

It were to be wished that Mr. Locke, who inquired so 
accurately and laudably into the origin, certainty, and ex- 
tent of human knowledge, had turned his attention more 
particularly to the origin of these two opinions which he 



382 JUDGMENT. 

firmly believed ; to wit, that sensible qualities must have 
a subject which we call body, and that thought must have 
a subject which we call mind. A due attention to these 
two opinions, which govern the belief of all men, even of 
skeptics in the practice of life, would probably have led 
him to perceive, that sensation and consciousness are not 
the only sources of human knowledge ; and that there are 
principles of belief in human nature, of which we can give 
no other account but that they necessarily result from the 
constitution of our faculties ; and that, if it were in our 
power to throw off their influence upon our practice and 
conduct, we could neither speak nor act like reasonable 
men.* 

(2.) The second metaphysical principle I mention is, 
that whatever begins to exist must have a cause ivhich 
produced it. 

With regard to this point, we must hold one of these 
three things ; either that it is an opinion for which ice 
have no evidence, and which men have foolishly taken up 
without ground ; or that it is capable of direct proof by 
argument ; or that it is self-evident, and needs no proof, 
but ought to be received as an axiom which cannot by 
reasonable men be called in question. 

The first of these suppositions would put an end to all 
philosophy, to all religion, to all reasoning that would carry 
us beyond the objects of sense, and to all prudence in the 
conduct of life. 

As to the second supposition, that this principle may 
be proved by direct reasoning, I am afraid we shall find 
the proof extremely difficult, if not altogether impossi- 
ble. 

I know only of three or four arguments that have 
been urged by philosophers, in the way of abstract rea- 
soning, to prove that things which begin to exist must 
have a cause. 

One is offered by Mr. Hobbes, another by Dr. Samuel 
Clarke, another by Mr. Locke. Mr. Hume, in his Trea- 



* See Royer-Collard, Frag-mcnts, VIII., appended to Jouffroy's 
CEuvres de Reid, Tome IV. p. 300 ; Cousin's Elements of Psychology, 
Chap. III.} Mill's Analysis, Chap. XI. — Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 383 

tise of Human Nature, Book I. Part III. Sect. III., has 
examined them all ; and, in my opinion, has shown that 
they take for granted the thing to be proved ; a kind of 
false reasoning, which men are apt to fall into when they 
attempt to prove what is self-evident. 

It has been thought, that, although this principle does 
not admit of proof from abstract reasoning, it may be 
proved from experience, and may be justly drawn by in- 
duction from instances that fall within our observations. 

I conceive this method of proof would leave us in 
great ifhcertainty, for these three reasons : — 

First. Because the proposition to be proved is not a 
contingent but a necessary proposition. It is not, that 
things which begin to exist commonly have a cause, or 
even that they always in fact have a cause ; but that they 
must have a cause, and cannot begin to exist without a 
cause. Propositions of this kind, from their nature, are 
incapable of proof by induction. Experience informs us 
only of what is or has been, not of what must be ; and the 
conclusion must be of the same nature with the premises. 
For this reason, no mathematical proposition can be prov- 
ed by induction. Though it should be found by experi- 
ence in a thousand cases that the area of a plane triangle 
is equal to the rectangle under the altitude and half the 
base, this would not prove that it must be so in all cases, 
and cannot be otherwise ; which is what the mathemati- 
cian affirms. In like manner, though we had the most 
ample experimental proof that things which have begun to 
exist had a cause, this would not prove that they must 
have a cause. Experience may show us what is the es- 
tablished course of nature, but can never show what con- 
nections of things are in their nature necessary. 

Secondly. General maxims, grounded on experience, 
have only a degree of probability proportioned to the ex- 
tent of our experience, and ought always to be under- 
stood so as to leave room for exceptions, if future experi- 
ence shall discover any such. The law of gravitation has 
as full a proof from experience and induction as any prin- 
ciple can be supposed to have. Yet if any philosopher 
should, by clear experiment, show that there is a kind of 
matter in some bodies which does not gravitate, the law 



384 JUDGMENT. 

of gravitation ought to be limited by that exception. Now 
it is evident that men have never considered the principle 
of the necessity of causes as a truth of this kind, which 
may admit of limitation or exception ; and therefore it has 
not been received upon this kind of evidence. 

Thirdly. I do not see that experience could satisfy us 
that every change in nature actually has a cause. In the 
far greater part of the changes in nature that fall within our 
observation, the causes are unknown, and therefore, from 
experience, we cannot know whether they have causes or 
not. Causation is not an object of sense. The only ex- 
perience we can have of it is in the consciousness we 
have of exerting some power in ordering our thoughts and 
actions.* But this experience is surely too narrow a 
foundation for a general conclusion, that all things that 
have had or shall have a beginning, must have a cause. 
For these reasons, this principle cannot be drawn from 
experience, any more than from abstract reasoning. 

The third supposition is, that it is to be admitted as a 
first or self-evident principle. Two reasons may be urged 
for this. 

First. The univei~sal consent of mankind, not of phi- 
losophers only, but of the rude and unlearned vulgar. 

Mr. Hume, as far as I know, was the first that ever 
expressed any doubt of this principle.! And when we 
consider that he has rejected every principle of human 
knowledge, excepting that of consciousness, and has not 
even spared the axioms of mathematics, his authority is of 
small weight. 

Setting aside the authority of Mr. Hume, what has phi- 
losophy been employed in, since men first began to phi- 
losophize, but in the investigation of the causes of things ? 
This it has always professed, when we trace it to its cra- 
dle. It never entered into any man's thought, before the 

* From this consciousness, many philosophers have, after Locke, en- 
deavoured to deduce our whole notion of causality. The ablest devel- 
opment of this theory is that of M. Maine de Biran [Examen des Leqons 
de Philosophie de M. Laromiguiere, § 8, and Exposition de la Doctrine 
Philosophique de Leibnitz] ; the ablest refutation of it, that of his friend 
and editor, M. Cousin [in his Preface to the fourth volume of (Euvres 
de Maine de Biran, and in Elements of Psychology, Chap. IV.]. — H. 

t Hume was not the first. — H. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 385 

philosopher we have mentioned, to put the previous ques- 
tion, whether things have a cause or not. Had it been 
thought possible that they might not, it may be presumed, 
that, in the variety ofabsurd and contradictory causes as- 
signed, some one would have had recourse to this hy- 
pothesis. 

They could conceive the world to arise from an egg, 
— from a struggle between love and strife, between 
moisture and drought, between heat and cold ; but they 
never supposed that it had no cause. We know not any 
atheistic sect that ever had recourse to this topic, though 
by it they might have evaded every argument that could 
be brought against them, and answered all objections 
to their system. But rather than adopt such an ab- 
surdity, they contrived some imaginary cause — such as 
chance, a concourse of atoms, or necessity — as the 
cause of the universe. 

The accounts which philosophers have given of partic- 
ular phenomena, as well as of the universe in general, 
proceed upon the same principle. That every phenome- 
non must have a cause, was always taken for granted. 
Nil turpius physico, says Cicero, quam fieri sine causa 
quicquam dicere. Though an Academic, he was dogmat- 
ical in this. And Plato, the father of the Academy, was 

no less SO. Havri yap ddvvarov X^P^ airiov yevecnv e^elf ( ' It 

is impossible that any thing should have its origin without 
a cause"). — Timoeus. 

Secondly. Another reason why I conceive this to be a 
first principle is, that mankind not only assent to it in 
speculation, but that the practice of life is grounded upon 
it in the most important matters, even in cases where 
experience leaves us doubtful ; and it is impossible to act 
with common prudence if we set it aside. 

In great families there are so many bad things done by 
a certain personage called Nobody^ that it is proverbial 
that there is a Nobody about every house who does a 
great deal of mischief ; and even where there is the exact- 
est inspection and government, many events will happen 
of which no other author can be found : so that, if we trust 
merely to experience in this matter, Nobody will be found 
to be a very active person, and to have no inconsiderable 
33 



386 JUDGMENT. 

share in the management of affairs. But whatever coun- 
tenance this system may have from experience, it is too 
shocking to common sense to impose upon the most ig- 
norant. A child knows, that, when his top or any of his 
playthings are taken away, it must be done by somebody. 
Perhaps it would not be difficult to persuade him that it 
was done by some invisible being, but that it should be 
done by nobody he cannot believe. 

Suppose a man's house to be broken open, his money 
and jewels taken away. Such things have happened 
times innumerable without any apparent cause ; and were 
he only to reason from experience in such a case, how 
must he behave ? He must put in one scale the instances 
wherein a cause was found of such an event, and in the 
other scale the instances where no cause was found, and 
the preponderant scale must determine whether it be 
most probable that there was a cause of this event, or that 
there was none. Would any man of common understand- 
ing have recourse to such an expedient to direct his judg- 
ment ? 

Suppose a man to be found dead on the highway, his 
skull fractured, his body pierced with deadly wounds, his 
watch and money carried off. The coroner's jury sits 
upon the body, and the question is put, What was the 
cause of this man's death, — was it accident, or felo 
de se, or murder by persons unknown ? Let us suppose 
an adept in Mr. Hume's philosophy to make one of the 
jury, and that he insists upon the previous question, — 
whether there was any cause of the event, or whether it 
happened without a cause. 

Surely, upon Mr. Hume's principles, a great deal 
might be said upon this point ; and, if the matter is to be 
determined by past experience, it is dubious on which side 
the weight of argument might, stand. But we may venture 
to say, that, if Mr. Hume had been of such a jury, he 
would have laid aside his philosophical principles, and act- 
ed according to the dictates of common prudence.* 



* As has been intimated more than once, Mr. Hume did not lay 
down his conclusions as true, as something to be believed, — for he was 
a skeptic, and not a believer, — but as following inevitably from the as- 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 387 

(3.) The third and last metaphysical principle I men- 
tion, which is opposed by the same author, is, that design, 
and intelligence in the cause, may be inferred, with cer- 
tainty, from marks or signs of it in the effect. 

Intelligence, design, and skill are not objects of the 
external senses, nor can we be conscious of therff in any 
person but ourselves. Even in ourselves, we cannot, 
with propriety, be said to be conscious of the natural or 
acquired talents we possess. We are conscious only of 
the operations of mind in which they are exerted. Indeed, 
a man comes to know his own mental abilities, just as he 
knows another man's, by the effects they produce, when 
there is occasion to put them to exercise. 

A man's wisdom is known to us only by the signs of it 
in his conduct ; his eloquence, by the signs of it in his 
speech. In the same manner we judge of his virtue, of his 
fortitude, and of all his talents and qualities of mind. Yet 
it is to be observed, that we judge of men's talents with 
as little doubt or hesitation as we judge of the immediate 
objects of sense. One person, we are sure, is a perfect 
idiot ; another, who feigns idiotism to screen himself from 
punishment, is found upon trial to have the understanding 
of a man, and to be accountable for his conduct. We 
perceive one man to be open, another cunning ; one to be 
ignorant, another very knowing ; one to be slow of under- 
standing, another quick. Every man forms such judg- 
ments of those he converses with ; and the common af- 
fairs of life depend upon such judgments. We can as 
little avoid them as we can avoid seeing what is before our 
eyes. 

From this it appears, that it is no less a part of the hu- 
man constitution to judge of men's characters, and of 
their intellectual powers, from the signs of them in their 

sumptions of the dogmatists. It is the triumph of skepticism to show 
that speculation and practice are irreconcilable. 

On the principle of causality, consult Hutton's Investigation of the 
Principles of Knoioledge, Part II. Sect. VI. ; Scott's Inquiry into the 
Limits and Peculiar Objects of Physical, and Metaphysical Science, Chap. 
Ill Sect. I.; Cousin's Elements of Psi/chology, Chap. IV. ; Whewell's 
Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. Part I. Book III. Chap. I. -IV.; 
Mill's System of Logic, Book III. Chap. XXI.; Bowen's Loioell Lec- 
tures, Lect. IV. and VI. — Ed. 



388 JUDGMENT. 

actions and discourse, than to judge of corporeal objects 
by our senses ; that such judgments are common to the 
whole human race that are endowed with understanding ; 
and that they are absolutely necessary in the conduct of 
life. 

Now* every judgment of this kind we form is only a 
particular application of the general principle, that intelli- 
gence, wisdom, and other mental qualities in the cause, 
may be inferred from their marks or signs in the effect. 
The actions and discourses of men are effects, of which 
the actors and speakers are the causes. The effects are 
perceived by our senses ; but the causes are behind the 
scene. We only conclude their existence and their de- 
grees fttom our observation of the effects. From wise 
conduct we infer wisdom in the cause ; from brave ac- 
tions we infer courage ; and so in other cases. 

This inference is made with perfect security by all men. 
We cannot avoid it ; it is necessary in the ordinary con- 
duct of life ; it has therefore the strongest marks of being 
a first principle. 

Perhaps some may think that this principle may be 
learned either by reasoning, or by experience, and there- 
fore that there is no ground to think it a first principle. 

If it can be shown to be got by reasoning, by all or 
the greater part of those who are governed by it, I shall 
very readily acknowledge that it ought not to be es- 
teemed a first principle. But I apprehend the contrary 
appears from very convincing arguments. 

First. The principle is too universal to be the effect of 
reasoning. It is common to philosophers and to the vul- 
gar ; to the learned and the most illiterate ; to the civil- 
ized and to the savage : and of those who are governed 
by it, not one in ten thousand can give a reason for it. 

Secondly. We find philosophers, ancient and modern, 
who can reason excellently on subjects that admit of rea- 
soning, when they have occasion to defend this principle, 
not offering reasons for it, or any medium of proof, but ap- 
pealing to the common sense of mankind ; mentioning 
particular instances, to make the absurdity of the contrary 
opinion more apparent, and sometimes using the weapons 
of wit and ridicule, which are very proper weapons for 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 389 

refuting absurdities, but altogether improper in points that 
are to be determined by reasoning. 

To confirm this observation, 1 shall quote two authors, 
an ancient and a modern, who have more expressly under- 
taken the defence of this principle than any others I re- 
member to have met with, and whose good sense and ability 
to reason, where reasoning is proper, will not be doubted. 

The first is Cicero, whose words, Lib. I. Cap. 13, 
De Divinatione., may be thus translated: — "Can any 
thing done by chance have all the marks of design ? Four 
dice may, by chance, turn up four aces ; but do you 
think that four hundred dice, thrown by chance, will turn 
up four hundred aces ? Colors thrown upon canvas with- 
out design may have some similitude to a human face ; but 
do you think they might make as beautiful a picture as 
that of the Coan Venus ? A hog turning up the ground 
with his nose may make something of the form of the 
letter A ; but do you think that a hog might describe on 
the ground the 'Andromache' of Ennius ? Carneades 
imagined, that in the stone quarries at Chios he found, in a 
stone that was split, a representation of the head of a. little 
Pan, or sylvan deity. I believe he might find a figure 
not unlike ; but surely not such a one as you would say 
had been formed by an excellent sculptor like Scopas. 
For so, verily, the case is, that chance never perfectly 
imitates design." Thus Cicero.* 

Now, in all this discourse, I see very good sense, and 
what is apt to convince every unprejudiced mind ; but I 
see not in the whole a single step of reasoning. It is 
barely an appeal to every man's common sense. 

Let us next see how the same point is handled by the 
excellent Archbishop Tillotson, Works, Vol. I. Sermon 
I. — " For I appeal to any man of reason, whether any 
thing can be more unreasonable, than obstinately to im- 
pute an effect to chance which carries on the face of it all 
the arguments and characters of design ? Was ever any 
considerable work, in which there was required a great 
variety of parts, and an orderly and regular adjustment of 
these parts, done by chance ? Will chance fit means to 

*See also his De Natura Deormn, Lib. II. Cap. 37. — H. 

33* 



390 JUDGMENT. 

ends, and that in ten thousand instances, and not fail in 
any one ? How often might a man, after he had jumbled 
a set of letters in a bag, fling them out upon the ground 
before they would fall into an exact poem, yea, or so 
much as make a good discourse in prose ? And may not 
a little book be as easily made as this great volume of the 
world ? How long might a man sprinkle colors upon 
canvas with a careless hand before they would make the 
exact picture of a man ? And is a man easier made by 
chance than his picture ? How long might twenty thou- 
sand blind men, which should be sent out from the remote 
parts of England, wander up and down before they would 
all meet upon Salisbury plains, and fall into rank and file 
in the exact order of an army ? And yet this is much 
more easy to be imagined than how the innumerable blind 
parts of the matter should rendezvous themselves into a 
world. A man that sees Henry the Seventh's chapel at 
Westminster might with as good reason maintain (yea, 
and much better, considering the vast difference between 
that little structure and the huge fabric of the world), that 
it was never contrived or built by any man, but that the 
stones did by chance grow into those curious figures into 
which we see them to have been cut and graven ; and that 
upon a time (as tales usually begin), the materials of that 
building, the stone, mortar, timber, iron, lead, and glass, 
happily met together, and very fortunately ranged them- 
selves into that delicate order in which we see them now 
so close compacted, that it must be a very great chance 
that parts them again. What would the world think of a 
man that should advance such an opinion as this, and 
write a book for it ? If they would do him right, they 
ought to look upon him as mad." 

In this passage, the excellent author takes what I con- 
ceive to be the proper method of refuting an absurdity, by 
exposing it in different lights, in which every man of com- 
mon understanding perceives it to be ridiculous. And 
although there is much good sense, as well as wit, in the 
passage I have quoted, I cannot find one medium of proof 
in the whole. 

I have met with one or two respectable authors who 
draw an argument from the doctrine of chances, to show 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 391 

how improbable it is that a regular arrangement of parts 
should be the effect of chance, or that it should not be the 
effect of design. I do not object to this reasoning ; but I 
would observe, that the doctrine of chances is a branch 
of mathematics little more than a hundred years old, while 
the conclusion in question has been held by all men from 
the beginning of the world. It cannot, therefore, be 
thought, that men were originally led to this conclusion by 
that reasoning. Indeed, it may be doubted whether the 
first principle upon which all the mathematical reasoning 
about chances is grounded is more self-evident than this 
conclusion drawn from it, or whether it is not a particular 
instance of that general conclusion. 

We are next to consider whether we may not learn 
from experience, that effects which have all the marks and 
tokens of design must proceed from a designing cause. 

I apprehend that we cannot learn this truth from expe- 
rience, for two reasons. 

First. Because it is a necessary truth, not a contingent 
one. It agrees with the experience of mankind since the 
beginning of the world, that the area of a triangle is equal 
to half the rectangle under its base and perpendicular. It 
agrees no less with experience, that the sun rises in the 
east and sets in the west. So far as experience goes, 
these truths are upon an equal footing. But every man 
perceives this distinction between them, that the first is a 
necessary truth, and that it is impossible it should not be 
true ; but the last is not necessary, but contingent, de- 
pending upon the will of Him who made the world. As 
we cannot learn from experience that twice three must 
necessarily make six, so neither can we learn from expe- 
rience that certain effects must proceed from a designing 
and intelligent cause. Experience informs us only of 
what has been, but never of what must be. 

Secondly. It may be observed, that experience can 
show a connection between a sign, and the thing signified 
by it, in those cases only, where both the sign and the 
thing signified are perceived, and have always been per- 
ceived in conjunction. But if there be any case where 
the sign only is perceived, experience can never show its 
connection with the thing signified. Thus, for example, 



392 JUDGMENT. 

thought is a sign of a thinking principle or mind. But 
how do we know that thought cannot be without a mind ? 
If any man should say that he knows this by experience, 
he deceives himself. It is impossible he can have any 
experience of this ; because, though we have an imme- 
diate knowledge of the existence of thought in ourselves 
by consciousness, yet we have no immediate knowledge 
of a mind. The mind is not an immediate object either 
of sense or of consciousness. We may therefore justly con- 
clude, that the necessary connection between thought and a 
mind, or thinking being, is not learned from experience. 

The same reasoning may be applied to the connection 
between a work excellently fitted for some purpose, and 
design in the author or cause of that work. One of these 
— to wit, the work — may be an immediate object of 
perception. But the design and purpose of the author 
cannot be an immediate object of perception ; and there- 
fore experience can never inform us of any connection 
between the one and the other, far less of a necessary 
connection. 

Thus I think it appears, that the principle we have been 
considering — to wit, that, from certain signs or indica- 
tions in the effect, we may infer that there must have 
been intelligence, wisdom, or other intellectual or moral 
qualities in the cause — is a principle which we get neither 
by reasoning nor by experience ; and therefore, if it be a 
true principle, it must be a first principle. There is in 
the human understanding a light, by which we see imme- 
diately the evidence of it, when there is occasion to apply it. 

Of how great importance this principle is in common 
life, we have already observed. And 1 need hardly men- 
tion its importance in natural theology. The clear marks 
and signatures of wisdom, power, and goodness, in the 
constitution and government of the world, are, of all argu- 
ments that have been advanced for the being and provi- 
dence of the Deity, that which in all ages has made the 
strongest impression upon candid and thinking minds ; 
an argument which has this peculiar advantage, that it 
gathers strength as human knowledge advances, and is 
more convincing at present than it was some centuries 
ago. King Alphonso might say, that he could contrive a 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. o\)6 

better planetary system than that which astronomers held 
in his day.* That system was not the work of God, but 
the fiction of men. But since the true system of the sun, 
moon, and planets has been discovered, no man, how- 
ever atheistically disposed, has pretended to show how a 
better could be contrived. 

When we attend to the marks of good contrivance 
which appear in the works of God, every discovery we 
make in the constitution of the material or intellectual 
system becomes a hymn of praise to the great Creator 
and Governor of the world. And a man who is possessed 
of the genuine spirit of philosophy will think it impiety to 
contaminate the Divine workmanship, by mixing it with 
those fictions of human fancy called theories and hypoth- 
eses, which will always bear the signatures of human 
folly, no less than the other does of Divine wisdom. 

I know of no person who ever called in question the 
principle now under our consideration, when it is applied 
to the actions and discourses of men : for this would be 
to deny that we have any means of discerning a wise man 
from an idiot, or a man that is illiterate in the highest de- 
gree from a man of knowledge and learning, which no 
man has had the effrontery to do. But, in all ages, those 
who have been unfriendly to the principles of religion 
have made attempts to weaken the force of the argument 
for the existence and perfections of the Deity, which is 
founded on this principle. That argument has got the 
name of the Argument from Final Causes ; and, as the 
meaning of this name is well understood, we shall use it. 

The argument from final causes, when reduced to a 
syllogism, has these two premises : — First, that design 
and intelligence in the cause may, with certainty, be in- 
ferred from marks or signs of it in the effect. This is the 
principle we have been considering, and we may call it 
the major proposition of the argument. The second, 
which we call the minor proposition, is, that there are in 

* Alphonso X. of Castile. He flourished in the thirteenth century, — 
a great mathematician and astronomer. To him we owe the Alphon- 
sine Tables. His saying was not so pious and philosophical as Keid 
states; but that, "had he been present with God at the creation, he 
could have supplied some useful hints towards the better ordering of 
the universe." — H. 



394 JUDGMENT. 

fact the clearest marks of design and wisdom in the works 
of nature,. The conclusion is, that the works of nature 
are the effects of a wise and intelligent cause. One must 
either assent to the conclusion, or deny one or other of 
the premises. 

Those among the ancients who denied a God or a 
providence seem to me to have yielded the major propo- 
sition, and to have denied the minor; conceiving that 
there are not in the constitution of things such marks of 
wise contrivance as are sufficient to put the conclusion 
beyond doubt. This, I think, we may learn from the 
reasoning of Cotta the Academic, in the third book of 
Cicero, Of the Nature of the Gods. 

The gradual advancement made in the knowledge of 
nature hath put this opinion quite out of countenance. 
When the structure of the human body was much less 
known than it is now, the famous Galen saw such evident 
marks of wise contrivance in it, that, though he had been 
educated an Epicurean, he renounced that system, and 
wrote his book Of the Use of the Parts of the Human 
Body, on purpose to convince others of what appeared so 
clear to himself, that it was impossible that such admira- 
ble contrivance should be the effect of chance. Those, 
therefore, of later times, who are dissatisfied with this 
argument from final causes, have quitted the stronghold 
of the ancient atheists, which had become untenable, and 
have chosen rather to make a defence against the major 
proposition. 

Descartes seems to have led the way in this, though he 
was no atheist. But, having invented some new argu- 
ments for the being of God, he was perhaps led to dis- 
parage those that had been used before, that he might bring 
more credit to his own.* Or perhaps he was offended 

* The following succinct statement of Descartes's proofs of a Deity is 
translated from the Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques, Art. Dieu. 

" The ontological proof, as it is called by Kant, has for its principle the 
idea of an absolutely perfect being. It was first adduced in the Pros- 
logiurn of St. Anselm, the argument of which, originally conceived 
under the form of a prayer, may be stated thus : — All men have the idea 
of God, — even those who deny it; for they cannot deny that of which 
they have no idea. The idea of God is the idea of a being absolutely 
perfect, one whom we cannot imagine to have a superior. Now the 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 395 

with the Peripatetics, because they often mixed final 
causes with physical, in order to account for the phenom- 
ena of nature. 

He maintained, therefore, that physical causes only 
should be assigned for phenomena ; that the philosopher 
has nothing to do with final causes ; and that it is pre- 
sumption in us to pretend to determine for what end any 
work of nature is framed. Some of those who were 
great admirers of Descartes, and followed him in many 
points, differed from him in this, particularly Dr. Henry 
More and the pious Archbishop Fenelon : but others, 
after the example of Descartes, have shown a contempt 
of all reasoning from final causes. Among these, I think, 

idea of such a being necessarily implies existence; otherwise we might 
imagine another being, who, by the superaddition of existence to the 
perfection of the first, would thereby excel him ; that is to say, excel 
one who, by supposition, is absolutely perfect. Consequently, we can- 
not conceive the idea of God without being constrained to believe that 
he exists. Descartes, evidently without any acquaintance with his 
predecessor of the eleventh century, fell on the same proof; but, by the 
manner in which he developed it, he has made it more legitimate, and 
saved it, in advance, from the formidable objection of Kant. In fact, 
the philosopher of the Middle Age, and, following in the same steps, 
Cudworth and Leibnitz, confined themselves wholly to the idea of per- 
fection, thinking to make the notion of existence come out of that alone 
by way of deduction and analysis; but they did not show how this idea 
is indissolubly connected with experience, or the perception of reality, 
that is to say, of facts, and imposed on our mind as the condition even 
of reality and of facts, as a necessary and irresistible belief, and not as a 
pure conception, or a supposition invented at pleasure. What they 
failed to do, Descartes has done. Taking for his point of departure an 
incontestable fact, an immediate verity, our own existence, Descartes 
ascends to the belief in a being absolutely perfect. The latter belief is 
not deduced from the former; it is given us, it is imposed upon us, im- 
mediately and at the same time with the former. The Cartesian argu- 
ment under its first form, such as we find it in the Discours de la Me- 
thods, may be expressed thus : — As soon as I perceive myself, an imper- 
fect being, to exist, I have the idea of a perfect being, and am under the 
necessity of admitting that this idea has been imparted to me by a being 
who is actually perfect, who really possesses all the perfections of which 
I have some idea, — that is to say, who is God. In another place (3 e 
Meditation) Descartes has combined the idea of perfection with the prin- 
ciple of causality: — I do not exist by myself; for if I were the cause of 
my own existence I should have given myself all the perfections of 
which I have an id^a I exist then by another, and this being by whom 
I exist is all-perfect; otherwise I should be able to apply to him the 
same reasoning which I have just applied to myself. It is the argu- 
ment of St. Anselm, and not that of Descartes, which Leibnitz has 
reduced to the form of a regular syllogism, and which has since been 
attacked by Kant, in his Critic of Pure Reason. The syllogism of Leib- 



396 JUDGMENT. 

we may reckon Maupertuis and Buffon. But the most 
direct attack has been made upon this principle by Mr. 
Hume, who puts an argument in the mouth of an Epicu- 
rean, on which he seems to lay great stress. 

The argument is, that the universe is a singular effect, 
and therefore we can draw no conclusion from it, whether 
it may have been made by wisdom or not. If I under- 
stand the force of this argument, it amounts to this, — that 
if we had been accustomed to see worlds produced, some 
by wisdom and others without it, and bad observed that 
such a world as this which we inhabit was always the 
effect of wisdom, we might then, from past experience, 
conclude that this world was made by wisdom ; but 

nitz is as follows: — Jl being from, whose essence we can conclude exist- 
ence, exists in fact, if it is possible. This proposition, as it is an identi- 
cal axiom, needs no proof. Now God is such a being that ice can infer 
from his essence his existence. This, also, as it is the definition of God, 
stands in no need of proofs. Therefore, if God is possible, God exists. — 
Nouveaux Essais, Liv. IV. § 7. Here, however, it is proper to remark 
that what Leibnitz thought to add to the Proslogium had been added 
before by Cudworth, using nearly the same words. — Intellectual System, 
Chap. V. Sect. I., Harrison's edit., Vol. HI. p. 39. 

" Another proof, wholly due to Descartes (Discours de la Mdthode,4 e 
Partie, and 3 e Meditation), is that which is drawn from the idea of the 
infinite. It has received from the author of the Meditations the~ same 
form as the preceding, with which it is blended. It is presented to us, 
therefore, as an immediate or first principle of reason, of which we have 
cognizance as soon as we arrive at consciousness of ourselves, and which 
we can no more call into doubt than our own existence. At the same 
time, says Descartes, that I perceive myself as a finite being, I have the 
idea of an infinite being. This idea, from which I cannot withdraw 
myself, and which is derived from no other idea, comes to me neither 
from myself nor from any other finite being; for how could the finite 
produce the idea of the infinite? Therefore it has been imparted to me 
by a being really infinite. Hence we see that the Infinite, such as Des- 
cartes conceives it, is not an abstract notion, applicable indiscriminately 
to all things; it is the very principle of our ideas, — that is to say, of 
reason and of thought." 

See the same article for a statement of three other forms of the meta- 
physical argument for the Divine existence. This argument is not in 
favor among English theologians generally; but those who have adopt- 
ed it are among the most distinguished, — such as Henry More, Dr. 
Samuel Clarke, and Bishop Butler. The popular objections chiefly in- 
sisted on at the present day are not new. See also L. F. Ancillon, 
Judicium de Judiciis circa. At gum enlum Cart.esium pro Existentia Dei; 
Bonchitte, Histoire des Preuves de V Existence de Dieu, published in 
M6moires de V Jtcademie Royale des Sciences Morales et Politiques, Tome 
I., Savants Etrangers; Crombie's Natural Theology, Chap. I ; Turton's 
Natural Theology considered loith Reference to Lord Brougham's Dis- 
course on that Subject, Sect. V. — Ed. 



FIRST PRINCIPLES. 397 

having no such experience, we have no means of forming 
any conclusion about it. 

That this is the strength of the argument appears, 
because, if the marks of wisdom seen in one world be no 
evidence of wisdom, the like marks seen in ten thousand 
will give as little evidence, unless, in time past, we per- 
ceived wisdom itself conjoined with the tokens of it ; and, 
from their perceived conjunction in time past, conclude, 
that although, in the present world, we see only one of 
the two, the other must accompany it. 

Whence it appears, that this reasoning of Mr. Hume is 
built on the supposition, that our inferring design from the 
strongest marks of it is entirely owing to our past expe- 
rience of having always found these two things conjoined. 
But I hope I have made it evident that this is not the 
case. And indeed it is evident, that, according to this 
reasoning, we can have no evidence of mind or design in 
any of our fellow-men. 

How do I know that any man of my acquaintance has 
understanding ? I never saw his understanding. I see 
only certain effects, which my judgment leads me to con- 
clude to be marks and tokens of it. 

But, says the skeptical philosopher, you can conclude 
nothing from these tokens, unless past experience has 
informed you that such tokens are always joined with 
understanding. Alas ! Sir, it is impossible I can ever 
have this experience. The understanding of another 
man is no immediate object of sight, or of any other 
faculty which God hath given me ; and unless I can con- 
clude its existence from tokens that are visible, I have no 
evidence that there is understanding in any man. 

It seems, then, that the man who maintains that there 
is no force in the argument from final causes, must, if he 
will be consistent, see no evidence of the existence of any 
intelligent being but himself.* 

* Compare Kant's Critic of Pure Reason, Third Division of the Sec- 
ond Book of Transcendental Dialectic; Lord Brougham's Discourse 
on Natural Theology, Part I. ; Baden Powell's Connection of Natural 
and Divine Truth, Sect. III., IV.; Whewell's Philosophy of the Induc- 
tive Sciences, Part I. Book IX. Chap. VI.; Hume's Dialogues concern- 
ing Natural Religion; Irons's Whole Doctrine of Final Causes; Bowen's 
Lowell Lectures, Lect. IX. See, also, the works by Bouchitte, Crom- 
bie, and Turton, referred to in the last note. — Ed. 

34 



ESSAY YII. 

OF REASONING. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF REASONING IN GENERAL, AND OF DEMONSTRATION. 

I. Of Reasoning in General, as distinguished from 
Judgment.] The power of reasoning is very nearly al- 
lied to that of judging ; and it is of little consequence in 
the common affairs of life to distinguish them nicely. On 
this account, the same name is often given to both. We 
include both under the name of reason.* The assent we 

* Reason (\6yos, ratio, raison, Vernunft) is a very vague, vacillating, 
and equivocal word. Throwing aside various accidental significations 
which it has obtained in particular languages, as in Greek denoting not 
only the ratio but the oratio of the Latins; throwing aside its employ- 
ment, in most languages, for cause, motive, argument, principle of proba- 
tion, or middle term of a syllogism, and considering it only as a philo- 
sophical word denoting a faculty or complement of faculties; — in this 
relation it is found employed in the following meanings, not only by 
different individuals, but frequently, to a greater or less extent, by the 
same philosopher. 

" It has, both in ancient and modern times, been very commonly em- 
ployed, like understanding and intellect, to denote our intelligent nature 
in general {Xoytubv pepos) ; and this usually as distinguished from the 
lower cognitive faculties, as sense, imagination, memory, — but always, 
and emphatically, as in contrast to the feelings and desires. In this sig- 
nification, to follow the Aristotelic division, it comprehends, — 1°, con- 
ception, or sim.ple apprehension (evvoia, voiqcris tccv adiaipercnv, concep- 
tus, conceptio, apprehensio simplex, das Begreifen) ; — 2°, the compositive 
and divisive process, affirmation and negation, judgment (o-vvBecris kcu 
Siaipecis, drrocfiaviTLs. judicium); — 3°, reasoning or the discursive fac- 
ulty (didvoia, Xoyos, Xoyicrpos, to crvWoy[£€cr6ai, discursus, ratiociva- 
tio) ; — 4 n , intellect or intelligence proper, either as the intuition, or as the 
place, of principles or self-evident truths (vovs, intellectus, intelligentia, 
mens). 

" It has not unfrequently been employed to comprehend the third 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 399 

give to a proposition is called judgment, whether the prop- 
osition be self-evident, or derive its evidence by reason- 
ing from other propositions. Yet there is a distinction be- 
tween reasoning and judging. Reasoning is the process by 
which ive pass from one judgment to another which is the 

and fourth of the special functions above enumerated, — to wit, the dia- 
noetic and noelic. In this meaning it is taken by Reid in his later works. 
Thus, in the Intellectual Poicers, he states that reason, in its first office 
or degree (the noetic), is identical with common sense, — in its second 
(the dianoetic), with reasoning. 

"It has very generally, both in ancient and modern philosophy, been 
employed for the third of the above special functions; — Ao-yos and 
Xoyio-fj.6s, ratio and ratiocinatio, reason and, reasoning, being thus com- 
pounded. 

" In the ancient systems it was very rarely used exclusively for the 
fourth special function, the noetic, in contrast to the dianoetic. Aristotle, 
indeed (Eth. Nic, Lib. VI. c. 12; Eth. Eud., Lib. V. c. 8), expressly says 
that reason is not the faculty of principles, that faculty being intelligence 
proper. Boethius (De Cons. Phil., Lib. V. Pr. 5) states that reason or 
discursive intellect belongs to man, while intelligence or intuitive intellect 
is the exclusive attribute of Divinity ; while Porphyry somewhere says 
that ' we have intelligence in common with the gods, and reason in 
common with the brutes.' Sometimes, however, it was apparently so 
employed. Thus St. Augustine seems to view reason as the faculty of 
intuitive truths, and as opposed to reasoning (De. Quant. Jin. §53; De 
Immort. Jin., § § 1, 10). This, however, is almost a singular exception. 

" In modern times, though we frequently meet with reason, as a gen- 
eral faculty, distinguished from reasoning, as a particular, yet, until Kant, 
I am not aware that reason (Vernunft) was ever exclusively, or even 
emphatically, used in a signification corresponding to the noetic faculty, 
in its strict and special meaning, and opposed to understanding (Ver- 
stand) viewed as comprehending the other functions of thought, — un- 
less Crusius (IVcg, &c, § 62 et seq.) may be regarded as Kant's fore- 
runner in this innovation. Indeed the Vernunft of Kant, in its special 
signification (for he also uses it for reason in the first or more general 
meaning, as indeed nothing can be more vague aiad various than his 
employment of the word), cannot without considerable qualification be 
considered analogous to vovs, far less to common sense; though his 
usurpation of the term for the faculty of principles probably determined 
Jacobi (who had originally, like philosophers in general, confounded 
Vernunft with Verstand, reason with reasoning) to appropriate the term 
reason to what he had at first opposed to it, under the name of belief 
(Gtaube). 

" Kant's abusive employment of the term reason, for the faculty of 
the Unconditioned, determined also its adoption, under the same signi- 
fication, in the philosophy of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel ; though 
vovs, intellectus, intelligentia, which had been applied by the Platonists 
in a similar sense, were (through Verstand, by which they had been 
always rendered into German) the only words suitable to express that 
cognition of the Absolute, in which subject and object, knowledge and 
existence, God and man, are supposed to be identified." 

Abridged from Sir W. Hamilton's Note A, § 5. — Ed. 



400 REASONING. 

consequence of it. Accordingly our judgments are dis- 
tinguished into intuitive, which are not grounded upon any- 
preceding judgment, and discursive, which are deduced 
from some preceding judgment by reasoning. 

In all reasoning, therefore, there must be a proposition 
inferred, and one or more from which it is inferred. And 
this power of inferring, or drawing a conclusion, is only 
another name for reasoning ; the proposition inferred be- 
ing called the conclusion, and the proposition or proposi- 
tions from which it is inferred, the premises. 

Reasoning may consist of many steps ; the first conclu- 
sion being a premise to a second, that to a third, and so 
on, till we come to the last conclusion. A process con- 
sisting of many steps of this kind is so easily distinguished 
from judgment, that it is never called by that name. But 
when there is only a single step to the conclusion, the dis- 
tinction is less obvious, and the process is sometimes 
called judgment, sometimes reasoning. 

It is not strange, that, in common discourse, judgment 
and reasoning should not be very nicely distinguished, 
since they are in some cases confounded even by logi- 
cians. We are taught in logic, that judgment is expressed 
by one proposition, but that reasoning requires two or 
three. But so various are the modes of speech, that what 
in one mode is expressed by two or three propositions, 
may in another mode be expressed by one. Thus I may 
say, God is good ; therefore good men shall be happy. 
This is reasoning, of that kind which logicians call an 
enthymeme, consisting of an antecedent proposition, and a 
conclusion drawn from it. But this reasoning may be ex- 
pressed by one proposition, thus : Because God is good, 
good men shall be happy. This is what they call a causal 
proposition, and therefore expresses judgment ; yet the 
enthyrneme, which is reasoning, expresses no more. 

Reasoning, as well as judgment, must be true or false ; 
both are grounded upon evidence which may be probable 
or demonstrative, and both are accompanied with assent 
or belief. 

The power of reasoning is justly accounted one of the 
prerogatives of human nature ; because by it many impor- 
tant truths have been and may be discovered, which with- 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 401 

out it would be beyond our reach ; yet it seems to be on- 
ly a kind of crutch to a limited understanding. We can 
conceive an understanding, superior to human, to which 
that truth appears intuitively, which we can only discover 
by reasoning. For this cause, though we must ascribe 
judgment to the Almighty, we do not ascribe reasoning to 
him, because it implies some defect or limitation of under- 
standing. Even among men, to use reasoning in things 
that are self-evident is trifling ; like a man going upon 
crutches when he can walk upon his legs. 

What reasoning is can be understood only by a man 
who has reasoned, and who is capable of reflecting upon 
this operation of his own mind. We can define it only 
by synonymous words or phrases, such as inferring, draw- 
ing a conclusion, and the like. The very notion of rea- 
soning, therefore, can enter into the mind by no other 
channel than that of reflecting upon the operation of rea- 
soning in our own minds ; and the notions of premises and 
conclusion, of a syllogism and all its constituent parts, of 
an enthymeme, sorites, demonstration, paralogism, and 
many others, have the same origin. 

The exercise of reasoning on various subjects, not only 
strengthens the faculty, but furnishes the mind with a store 
of materials. Every train of reasoning which is familiar 
becomes a beaten track in the way to many others. It 
removes many obstacles which lay in our way, and smooths 
many roads which we may have occasion to travel in fu- 
ture disquisitions. When men of equal natural parts ap- 
ply their reasoning power to any subject, the man who has 
reasoned much on the same or on similar subjects has a 
like advantage over him who has not, as the mechanic who 
has store of tools for his work has over him who has his 
tools to make, or even to invent. 

In a train of reasoning, the evidence of every step, 
where nothing is left to be supplied by the reader or hear- 
er, must be immediately discernible to every man of ripe 
understanding who has a distinct comprehension of the 
premises and conclusion, and who compares them together. 
To be able to comprehend, in one view, a combination of 
steps of this kind, is more difficult, and seems to require 
34* 



402 REASONING. 

a superior natural ability. In all, it may be much im- 
proved by habit. 

But the highest talent in reasoning is the invention of 
proofs ; by which, truths remote from the premises are 
brought to light. In all works of understanding, inven- 
tion has the highest praise ; it requires an extensive view 
of what relates to the subject, and a quickness in discern- 
ing those affinities and relations which may be subservient 
to the purpose. 

In all invention there must be some end in view : and 
sagacity in finding out the road that leads to this end is, I 
think, what we call invention. In this chiefly, as I appre- 
hend, and in clear and distinct conceptions, consists that 
superiority of understanding which we call genius. 

In every chain of reasoning, the evidence of the last 
conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest link 
of the chain, whatever may be the strength of the rest. 

II. Of Demonstrative Reasoning.] The most remark- 
able distinction of reasonings is, that some are probable, 
others demonstrative. 

In every step of demonstrative reasoning, the inference 
is necessary, and we perceive it to be impossible that the 
conclusion should not follow from the premises. In prob- 
able reasoning, the connection between the premises and 
the conclusion is not necessary, nor do we perceive it to 
be impossible that the first should be true while the last is 
false. 

Hence demonstrative reasoning has no degrees, nor can 
one demonstration be stronger than another, though, in re- 
lation to our faculties, one may be more easily compre- 
hended than another. Every demonstration gives equal 
strength to the conclusion, and leaves no possibility of its 
being false. 

It was, I think, the opinion of all the ancients, that 
demonstrative reasoning can be applied only to truths that 
are necessary, and not to those that are contingent. In 
this, I believe, they judged right. Of all created things, 
the existence, the attributes, and consequently the rela- 
tions resulting from those attributes, are contingent. They 
depend upon the will and power of him who made them. 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 403 

These are matters of fact, and admit not of demonstra- 
tion. 

The field of demonstrative reasoning, therefore, is the 
various relations of things abstract, that is, of things which 
we conceive, without regard to their existence. Of these, 
as they are conceived by the mind, and are nothing but 
what they are conceived to be, we may have a clear and 
adequate comprehension. Their relations and attributes 
are necessary and immutable. They are the things to 
which the Pythagoreans and Platonists gave the name of 
ideas. I would beg leave to borrow this meaning of the 
word idea from those ancient philosophers, and then I 
must agree with them, that ideas are the only objects 
about which we can reason demonstratively. 

There are many even of our ideas about which we can 
carry on no considerable train of reasoning. Though they 
be ever so well defined and perfectly comprehended, yet 
their agreements and disagreements are few, and these are 
discerned at once. We may go a step or two in forming 
a conclusion with regard to such objects, but can go no 
farther. There are others, about which we may, by a 
long train of demonstrative reasoning, arrive at conclu- 
sions very remote and unexpected. 

The reasonings I have met with that can be called 
strictly demonstrative may, I think, be reduced to two 
classes. They are either metaphysical, or they are math- 
ematical. 

In metaphysical reasoning, the process is always short. 
The conclusion is but a step or two, seldom more, from 
the first principle or axiom on which it is grounded, and 
the different conclusions depend not one upon another. 

It is otherwise in mathematical reasoning. Here the 
field has no limits. One proposition leads on to another, 
that to a third, and so on without end. 

If it should be asked, why demonstrative reasoning has 
so wide a field in mathematics, while, in other abstract 
subjects, it is confined within very narrow limits, I con- 
ceive this is chiefly owing to the nature of quantity, the 
object of mathematics. 

Every quantity, as it has magnitude, and is divisible in- 
to parts without end, so, in respect of its magnitude, it has 



404 REASONING. 

a certain ratio to every quantity of the kind. The ratios 
of quantities are innumerable, such as, a half, a third, a 
tenth, double, triple. All the powers of number are in- 
sufficient to express the variety of ratios. For there are 
innumerable ratios which cannot be perfectly expressed 
by numbers, such as the ratio of the side to the diagonal 
of a square, of the circumference of a circle to the diam- 
eter. Of this infinite variety of ratios, every one may be 
clearly conceived, and distinctly expressed, so as to be in 
no danger of being mistaken for any other. Extended 
quantities, such as lines, surfaces, solids, besides the vari- 
ety of relations they have in respect of magnitude, have 
no less variety in respect of figure ; and every mathemati- 
cal figure may be accurately defined, so as to distinguish 
it from all others. 

There is nothing of this kind in other objects of abstract 
reasoning. Some of them have various degrees ; but these 
are not capable of measure, nor can be said to have an as- 
signable ratio to others of the kind. They are either sim- 
ple, or compounded of a few indivisible parts ; and there- 
fore, if we may be allowed the expression, can touch only 
in few points. But mathematical quantities, being made 
up of parts without number, can touch in innumerable 
points, and be compared in innumerable different ways. 

There have been attempts made to measure the merit 
of actions by the ratios of the affections and principles of 
action from which they proceed. This may, perhaps, in 
the way of analogy, serve to illustrate what was before 
known ; but I do not think any truth can be discovered, in 
this way. There are, no doubt, degrees of benevolence, 
self-love, and other affections ; but when we apply ratios 
to them, I apprehend we have no distinct meaning.* 

*, Mr. J. S. Mill, in his. ingenious chapter, Of Demonstration and JVe- 
cessary Truths, says: — " The opinion of Dugald Stewart respecting the 
foundations of geometry is, I conceive, substantially correct; — that it 
is built upon hypotheses ; that it owes to this alone the peculiar certain- 
ty supposed to distinguish it; and that in any science whatever, by rea- 
soning from a set of hypotheses, we may obtain a body of conclusions 
as certain as those of geometry, that is, as strictly in accordance with 
the hypotheses, and as irresistibly compelling assent on condition that 
those hypotheses are true." He allows, however, that the opponents 
of Stewart have greatly the advantage of him on another important 
point in the theory of geometrical reasoning, — the necessity of admit- 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 405 

Some demonstrations are called direct, others indirect. 
The first kind leads directly to the conclusion to be 
proved. Of the indirect, some are called demonstrations 
ab absurdum. In these the proposition contradictory to 
that which is to be proved is demonstrated to be false, or 
to lead to an absurdity ; whence it follows, that its con- 
tradictory, that is, the proposition to be proved, is true. 
This inference is grounded upon an axiom in logic, that, 
of two contradictory propositions, if one be false, the oth- 
er must be true.* 

Another kind of indirect demonstration proceeds by 
enumerating all the suppositions that, can possibly be made 
concerning the proposition to be proved, and then demon- 
strating that all of them, excepting that which is to be 
proved, are false ; whence it follows, that the excepted 
supposition is true. Thus one line is proved to be equal 
to another, by proving first that it cannot be greater, and 
then that it cannot be less : for it must be either greater, 
or less, or equal ; and two of these suppositions being 
demonstrated to be false, the third must be true. 

All these kinds of demonstration are used in mathemat- 
ics, and perhaps some others. They have all equal 
strength. The direct demonstration is preferred where it 

ting as first principles axioms as well as definitions. " The axioms," he 
says, "as well those which are indemonstrable as those which admit of 
being demonstrated, differ from that other class of fundamental princi- 
ples which are involved in the definitions, in this, that they are true 
without any mixture- of hypothesis." "It remains to inquire, what is 
the ground of our belief in axioms? — what is the evidence on which 
they rest ? I answer, they are experimental truths ; generalizations 
from observation. The proposition, Two straight lines cannot inclose a 
space, — or, in other words, Two straight lines which have once met do not 
meet again, but continue to diverge, — is an induction from the evidence 
of our senses." According to Mill, therefore, all truths, including 
mathematical truth, are either empirical or hypothetical. 

For a brilliant polemic on this whole subject, see Stewart, Elements, 
Part II. Chap. IV.; Whewell's Mechanical Euclid, to which are added, 
Remarks on Mathematical Reasoning, and his Philosophy of the Inductive 
Sciences, Part I. Book II.; Edinburgh Review, Vol. LXVII. p. 81 ct 
seq. ; Quarterly Review, Vol. LXVIII. p. 177 el sen.; Mill's Logic, 
Book II. Chap. V., VI. — Ed. 

* This is called the principle of the excluded middle, — viz. between 
two contradictories.- — H. 

Th& lex exclusi medii reads thus: — " Either a given judgment must 
be true of any subject, or its contradictory; there is no middle course." 
— Ed. 



406 REASONING. 

can be had, for this reason only, as I apprehend, that it 
is the shortest road to the conclusion. The nature of 
the evidence and its strength are the same in all : only we 
are conducted to it by different roads. 

III. How far Morality is capable of Demonstration.] 
What has been said of demonstrative reasoning may help 
us to judge of an opinion of Mr. Locke, advanced in sev- 
eral places of his Essay; — to wit, "that morality is 
capable of demonstration as well as mathematics." 

In Book III. Chap. II., having observed that, mixed 
modes, especially those belonging to morality, being such 
combinations of ideas as the mind puts together of its own 
choice, the signification of their names may be perfectly 
and exactly defined, he adds, § 16 : — " Upon this ground 
it is that I am bold to think, that morality is capable of 
demonstration as well as mathematics : since the precise 
real essence of the things moral words stand for may be 
perfectly known, and so the congruity or incongruity of 
the things themselves be certainly discovered, in which 
consists perfect knowledge. Nor let any one object, that 
the names of substances are often to be made use of in 
morality, as well as those of modes, from which will arise 
obscurity ; for, as to substances, when concerned in mor- 
al discourses, their divers natures are not so much in- 
quired into as supposed : v. g\, when we say that man is 
subject to laio, we mean nothing by man but a corporeal 
rational creature ; what the real essence or other qualities 
of that creature are, in this case, is no way considered." 

Again, in Book IV. Chap. III. § 18 : — " The idea of 
a Supreme Being, whose workmanship we are, and the 
idea of ourselves, being such as are clear in us, would, I 
suppose, if duly considered and pursued, afford such foun- 
dation of our duty and rules of action, as might place mo- 
rality among the sciences capable of demonstration. The 
relation of other modes may certainly be perceived, as 
well as those of number and extension ; and I cannot see 
why they should not be capable of demonstration, if due 
methods were thought on to examine or pursue their 
agreement or disagreement." 

He afterwards gives as instances two propositions, as 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 407 

moral propositions of which we may be as certain as of 
any in mathematics ; and considers at large what may 
have given the advantage to the ideas of quantity, and 
made them be thought more capable of certainty and 
demonstration. 

Some of his learned correspondents, particularly his 
friend Mr. Molyneux, urged and importuned him to com- 
pose a system of morals according to the idea he had ad- 
vanced in his Essay ; and, in his answer to these solicita- 
tions, he only pleads other occupations, without suggest- 
ing any change of his opinion, or any great difficulty in 
the execution of what was desired. 

Those philosophers who think that our determinations 
in morals are not real judgments, that right and wrong in 
human conduct are only certain feelings or sensations in 
the person who contemplates the action, must reject Mr. 
Locke's opinion without examination. For if the princi- 
ples of morals be not a matter of judgment, but of feeling 
only, there can be no demonstration of them ; nor can any 
other reason be given for them, but that men are' so con- 
stituted by the Author of their being, as to contemplate 
with pleasure the actions we call virtuous, and with dis- 
gust those we call vicious. But if our determinations in 
morality be real judgments, and, like all other judgments, 
be either true or false, it is not unimportant to understand 
upon what kind of evidence those judgments rest. 

The argument offered by Mr. Locke, to show that mo- 
rality is capable of demonstration, is, that " the precise 
real essence of the things moral words stand for may be 
perfectly known, and so the congruity or incongruity of 
the things themselves be certainly discovered, in which 
consists perfect knowledge." The field of demonstra- 
tion is the various relations of things conceived abstractly, 
of which we may have perfect and adequate conceptions ; 
and Mr. Locke, taking all the things which moral words 
stand for to be of this kind, concluded that morality is as 
capable of demonstration as mathematics. 

Now I acknowledge that the names of the virtues and 
vices-, of right and obligation, of liberty and property, 
stand for things abstract, which may be accurately de- 
fined, or, at least, conceived as distinctly and adequately 



408 REASONING. 

as mathematical quantities. And thence, indeed, it fol- 
lows, that their mutual relations may be perceived as 
clearly and certainly as mathematical truths. Of this Mr. 
Locke gives two pertinent examples : the first, " Where 
there is no property, there is no injustice, is," says he, 
"a proposition as certain as any demonstration in Eu- 
clid." When injustice is defined to be a violation of 
property, it is as necessary a truth, that there can be no 
injustice where there is no property, as that you cannot 
take from a man that which he has not. The second ex- 
ample is, that " no government allows absolute liberty." 
This is a truth no less certain and necessary. But such 
abstract truths I would call metaphysical rather than 
moral. We give the name of mathematical to truths that 
express the relations of quantities considered abstractly ; 
all other abstract truths may be called metaphysical. But 
if those mentioned by Mr. Locke are to be called moral 
truths, I agree with him that there are many such that are 
necessarily true, and that have all the evidence that math- 
ematical truths can have. 

It ought, however, to be remembered, that, as was be- 
fore observed, the relations of things abstract, perceivable 
by us, excepting those of mathematical quantities, are few, 
and for the most part immediately discerned, so as not to 
require that train of reasoning which we call demonstration. 
Their evidence resembles more that of mathematical ax- 
ioms than mathematical propositions. This appears in 
the two propositions given as examples by Mr. Locke. 
The first follows immediately from the definition of injus- 
tice ; the second from the definition of government. Their 
evidence may more properly be called intuitive than de- 
monstrative. And this I apprehend to be the case, or 
nearly the case, with all abstract truths that are not math- 
ematical, for the reason given above. 

The propositions which I think are properly called 
moral, are those that affirm some moral obligation to be, 
or not to be, incumbent on one or more individual persons. 
To such propositions Mr. Locke's reasoning does not 
apply, because the subjects of the proposition are not 
things whose real essence may be perfectly known. They 
are the creatures of God ; their obligation results from the 



OF DEMONSTRATION. 409 

constitution which God has given them, and the circum- 
stances in which he has placed them. That an individ- 
ual has such a constitution, and is placed in such circum- 
stances, is not an abstract and necessary, but a contingent 
truth. It is a matter of fact, and therefore not capable of 
demonstrative evidence, which belongs only to necessary 
truths. 

If a man had not the faculty given him by God of per- 
ceiving certain things in conduct to be right, and others 
to be wrong, and of perceiving his obligation to do what 
is right, and not to. do what is wrong, he would not be a 
moral and accountable being. If a man be endowed with 
such a faculty, there must be some things which, by this 
faculty, are immediately discerned to be right, and others 
to be wrong ; and therefore there must be in morals, as 
in other sciences, first principles, which do not derive 
their evidence from any antecedent principles, but may be 
said to be intuitively discerned. 

Moral truths, therefore, may be divided into two classes, 
— to wit, such as are self-evident to every man whose 
understanding and moral faculty are ripe, and such as are 
deduced by reasoning from those that are self-evident. 
If the first be not discerned without reasoning, the last 
never can be by any reasoning. If any man could say 
with sincerity, that he is conscious of no obligation to 
consult his own present and future happiness ; to be faith- 
ful to his engagements ; to obey his Maker ; to injure no 
man ; I know not what reasoning, either probable or 
demonstrative, I could use to convince him of any moral 
duty. As you cannot reason in mathematics with a man 
who denies the axioms, as little can you reason with a 
man in morals who denies the first principles of morals. 
The man who does not, by the light of his own mind, 
perceive some things in conduct to be right, and others to 
be wrong, is as incapable of reasoning about morals as a 
blind man is about colors. 

Every man knows certainly, that what he approves in 
other men he ought to do in like circumstances, and that 
he ought not to do what be condemns in other men. 
Every man knows that he ought, with candor, to use the 
best means of knowing his duty. To every man who has a 
35 



410 REASONING. 

conscience, these things are self-eyident. They are im- 
mediate dictates of our moral faculty, which is a part of the 
human constitution ; and every man condemns himself, 
whether he will or not, when he knowingly acts contrary 
to them. 

Thus I think it appears, that every man of common 
understanding knows certainly, and without reasoning, the 
ultimate ends he ought to pursue, and that reasoning is ne- 
cessary only to discover the most proper means of attain- 
ing them ; and in this, indeed, a good man may often be 
in doubt. Thus, a magistrate knows that it is his duty to 
promote the good of the community which has intrusted 
him with authority ; and to offer to prove this to him by 
reasoning would be to affront him. But whether such a 
scheme of conduct in his office, or another, may best 
serve that end, he may in many cases be doubtful. I be- 
lieve, in such cases, he can very rarely have demonstra- 
tive evidence. His conscience determines the end he 
ought to pursue, and he has intuitive evidence that his end 
is good ; but prudence must determine the means of at- 
taining that end ; and prudence can very rarely use de- 
monstrative reasoning, but must rest in what appears most 
probable. 

Upon the whole, I agree with Mr. Locke, that propo- 
sitions expressing the congruities and incongruities of 
things abstract, which moral words stand for, may have 
all the evidence of mathematical truths. But this is not 
peculiar to things which moral words stand for. It is 
common to abstract propositions of every kind. For in- 
stance : — ■ You cannot take from a man ivhat he has not ; 
A man cannot be bound and perfectly free at the same time. 
I think no man will call these moral truths, but they are 
necessary truths, and as evident as any in mathematics. 
Indeed, they are very nearly allied to the two which Mr. 
Locke gives as instances of moral propositions capable of 
demonstration. Of such abstract propositions, however, 
I think it may more properly be said that they have the 
evidence of mathematical axioms, than that they are capa- 
ble of demonstration. 

There are propositions of another kind, which alone 
deserve the name of moral propositions. They are such 



PROBABLE EVIDENCE. 411 

as affirm something to be the duty of persons that really 
exist. These are not abstract propositions ; and there- 
fore Mr. Locke's reasoning does not apply to them. The 
truth of all such propositions depends upon the constitu- 
tion and circumstances of the persons to whom they are 
applied. 

Of such propositions, there are some that are self- 
evident to every man that has a conscience ; and these are 
the principles from which all moral reasoning must be 
drawn. They may be called the axioms of morals. But 
our reasoning from these axioms to any duty that is not 
self-evident, can very rarely be demonstrative. Nor is 
this any detriment to the cause of virtue, because to act 
against what appears most probable in a matter of duty is 
as real a trespass against the first principles of morality, as 
to act against demonstration ; and because he who has but 
one talent in reasoning, and makes the proper use of it, 
shall be accepted, as w r ell as he to whom God has given 
ten. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF PROBABLE REASONING. 

I. Distinction between Probable and Demonstrative 
Reasoning.] The field of demonstration, as has been 
observed, is necessary truth ; the field of probable rea- 
soning is contingent truth, — not what necessarily must be 
at all times, but what is, or was, or shall be. 

No contingent truth is capable of strict demonstration ; 
but necessary truths may sometimes have probable evi- 
dence. Dr. Wallis discovered many important mathe- 
matical truths, by that kind of induction which draws a 
general conclusion from particular premises. This is not 
strict demonstration, but, in some cases, gives as full con- 
viction as demonstration itself; and a man may be certain 
that a truth is demonstrable before it ever has been de- 
monstrated. In other cases, a mathematical proposition 



412 REASONING. 

may have such probable evidence from induction or anal- 
ogy, as encourages the mathematician to investigate its 
demonstration. But still the reasoning proper to mathe- 
matical and other necessary truths, is demonstration ; and 
that which is proper to contingent truths is probable rea- 
soning. 

These two kinds of reasoning differ in other respects. 
In demonstrative reasoning, one argument is as good as a 
thousand. One demonstration may be more elegant than 
another ; it may be more easily comprehended, or it may 
be more subservient to some purpose beyond the present. 
On any of these accounts it may deserve a preference : 
but then it is sufficient by itself; it needs no aid from an- 
other ; it can receive none. To add more demonstrations 
of the same conclusion would be a kind of tautology in 
reasoning ; because one demonstration, clearly compre- 
hended, gives all the evidence we are capable of re- 
ceiving. 

The strength of probable reasoning, for the most part, 
depends, not upon any one argument, but upon many, 
which unite their force, and lead to the same conclusion. 
Any one of them by itself would be insufficient to con- 
vince ; but the whole taken together may have a force 
that is irresistible, so that to desire more evidence would 
be absurd. Would any man seek new arguments to prove 
that there were such persons as King Charles the First, 
or Oliver Cromwell ? Such evidence may be compared 
to a rope made up of many slender filaments twisted to- 
gether. The rope has strength more than sufficient to 
bear the stress laid upon it, though no one of the filaments 
of which it is composed would be sufficient for that pur- 
pose. 

It is a common observation, that it is unreasonable to 
require demonstration for things which do not admit of it. 
It is no less unreasonable to require reasoning of any kind 
for things which are known without reasoning, All rea- 
soning must be grounded upon truths which are known with- 
out reasoning. In every branch of real knowledge there 
must be first principles whose truth is known intuitively, 
without reasoning, either probable or demonstrative. 
They are not grounded on reasoning, but all reasoning is 



PROBABLE EVIDENCE. 413 

grounded on them. It has been shown, that there are 
first principles of necessary truths, and first principles of 
contingent truths. Demonstrative reasoning is ground- 
ed upon the former, and probable reasoning upon the 
latter. 

That we may not be embarrassed by the ambiguity of 
words, it is proper to observe, that there is a popular 
meaning of probable evidence, which ought not to be con- 
founded with the philosophical meaning above explained. 
In common language, probable evidence is considered as 
an inferior degree of evidence, and is opposed to cer- 
tainty ; so that what is certain is more than probable, and 
what is only probable is not certain. Philosophers con- 
sider probable evidence, not as a degree, but as a species 
of evidence which is opposed, not to certainty, but to an- 
other species of evidence called demonstration. 

Demonstrative evidence has no degrees ; but probable 
evidence, taken in the philosophical sense, has all degrees, 
from the very least to the greatest, which we call cer- 
tainty. That there is such a city as Rome, I am as certain 
as of any proposition in Euclid ; but the evidence is not 
demonstrative, but of that kind which philosophers call 
probable. Yet, in common language, it would sound 
oddly to say, It is probable there is such a city as Rome, 
because it would imply some degree of doubt or uncer- 
tainty. 

Taking probable evidence, therefore, in the philosoph- 
ical sense, as it is opposed to demonstrative, it may 
have any degree of evidence, from the least to the 
greatest. 

I think, in most cases, we measure the degrees of evi- 
dence by the effect they have upon a sound understand- 
ing, when comprehended clearly, and without prejudice. 
Every degree of evidence perceived by the mind pro- 
duces a proportioned degree of assent or belief. The 
judgment may be in perfect suspense between two contra- 
dictory opinions, when there is no evidence for either, or 
equal evidence for both. The least preponderancy on one 
side inclines the judgment in proportion. Belief is mixed 
with doubt, more or less, until we come to the highest de- 
gree of evidence, when all doubt vanishes, and the belief 
35* 



414 REASONING. 

is firm and immovable. This degree of evidence, the 
highest the human faculties can attain, we call certainty. 

II. Different Kinds of Probable Evidence. ] Probable 
evidence not only differs in kind from demonstrative, but 
is itself of different kinds. The chief of these I shall 
mention, without pretending to make a complete enumer- 
ation. 

1. The first kind is that of human testimony, upon 
which the greatest part of human knowledge is built. 

The faith of history depends upon it, as well as the 
judgment of solemn tribunals with regard to men's ac- 
quired rights, and with regard to their guilt or innocence 
when they are charged with crimes. A great part of the 
business of the judge, of counsel at the bar, of the histo- 
rian, the critic, and the antiquarian, is to canvass and 
weigh this kind of evidence ; and no man can act with 
common prudence, in the ordinary occurrences of life, 
who has not some competent judgment of it. 

The belief we give to testimony, in many cases, is not 
solely grounded upon the veracity of the testifier. In a 
single testimony, we consider the motives a man might 
have to falsify. If there be no appearance of any such 
motive, much more if there be motives on the other side, 
his testimony has weight independent of his moral char- 
acter. If the testimony be circumstantial, we consider 
how far the circumstances agree together, and with things 
that are known. It is so very difficult to fabricate a 
story, which cannot be detected by a judicious examina- 
tion of the circumstances, that it acquires evidence by 
being able to bear such a trial. There is an art in detect- 
ing false evidence in judicial proceedings, well known to 
able judges and barristers ; so that I believe few false wit- 
nesses leave the bar without suspicion of their guilt. 

When there is an agreement of many witnesses, in a 
great variety of circumstances, without the possibility of a 
previous concert, the evidence may be equal to that of 
demonstration.* 

* See Babbage's Ninth Bridgewatcr Treatise, Note E, On Hume's 
Argument against Miracles ; in which it is demonstrated mathematically 
that " it is always possible to assign a number of independent witnesses, 



PROBABLE EVIDENCE. 415 

2. A second kind of probable evidence is the authority 
of those who are good judges of the point in question. 
The supreme court of judicature of the British nation is 
often determined by the opinion of lawyers in a point of 
law, of physicians in a point of medicine, and of other 
artists in what relates to their several professions. And, 
in the common affairs of life, we frequently rely upon 
the judgment of others, in points of which we are not 
proper judges ourselves. 

3. A third kind of probable evidence is that by which 
we recognize the identity of things, and persons of our ac- 
quaintance. That two swords, two horses, or two per- 
sons may be so perfectly alike, as not to be distinguish- 
able by those to whom they are best known, cannot be 
shown to be impossible. But we learn either from na- 
ture, or from experience, that it never happens ; or so 
very rarely, that a person or thing well known to us is 
immediately recognized without any doubt, when we per- 
ceive the marks or signs by which we have been accus- 
tomed to distinguish it from all other individuals of the 
kind. 

This evidence we rely upon in the most important af- 
fairs of life, and by this evidence the identity both of 
things and of persons is determined in courts of judi- 
cature. 

4. A fourth kind of probable evidence is that ivhich 
we have of men's future actions and conduct, from the 
general principles of action in man, or from our knowl- 
edge of the individuals. 

Notwithstanding the folly and vice that are to be found 
among men, there is a certaiu degree of prudence and 
probity which we rely upon in every man that is not in- 
sane. If it were not so, no man would be safe in the 
company of another, and there could be no society among 
mankind. If men were as much disposed to hurt as to 
do good, to lie as to speak truth, they could not live to- 
gether : they would keep at as great a distance from one 
another as possible, and the race would soon perish. 

the improbability of the falsehood of whose concurring testimony shall 
be greater than the improbability of the alleged miracle." — Ed. 



416 REASONING. 

We expect that men will take some care of themselves, 
of their family, friends, and reputation ; that they will not 
injure others without some temptation ; that they will 
have some gratitude for good offices, and some resent- 
ment of injuries. 

Such maxims with regard to human conduct are the 
foundation of all political reasoning, and of common pru- 
dence in the conduct of life. Hardly can a man form 
any project in public or in private life, which does not de- 
pend upon the conduct of other men, as well as his own, 
and wjiich does not go upon the supposition that men will 
act such a part in such circumstances. This evidence 
may be probable in a very high degree, but can never be 
demonstrative. The best concerted project may fail, and 
wise counsels may be frustrated, because some individual 
acted a part which it would have been against all reason 
to expect. 

5. Another kind of probable evidence, the counterpart of 
the last, is that by which we collect men's characters and 
designs from their actions, speech, and other external signs. 

We see not men's hearts, nor the principles by which # 
they are actuated ; but there are external signs of their 
principles and dispositions, which, though not certain, 
may sometimes be more trusted than their professions ; 
and it is from external signs that we must draw all the 
knowledge we can attain of men's characters. 

6. The next kind of probable evidence I mention is 
that which mathematicians call the probability of chances. 

We attribute some events to chance, because we know 
only the remote cause which must produce some one 
event of a number ; but know not the more immediate 
cause which determines a particular event of that number, 
in preference to the others. I think all the chances about 
which we reason in mathematics are of this kind. Thus, 
in throwing a just die upon a table, we say it is an equal 
chance which of the six sides shall be turned up ; because 
neither the person who throws, nor the by-standers, know 
the precise^measure of force and direction necessary to 
turn up any one side rather than another. There are here, 
therefore, six events, one of which must happen ; and as 
all are supposed to have equal probability, the probability 



PROBABLE EVIDENCE. 417 

of any one side being turned, up — the ace, for instance — 
is as one to the remaining number, five. The probability 
of turning up two aces with two dice is as one to thirty- 
five ; because here there are thirty-six events, each of 
which has equal probability. 

Upon such principles as these, the doctrine of chances 
has furnished a field of demonstrative reasoning of great 
extent, although the events about which this reasoning is 
employed be not necessary, but contingent, and be not 
certain, but probable. This may seem to contradict a 
principle before advanced, that contingent truths are not 
capable of demonstration ; but it does not : for in the 
mathematical reasonings about chance, the conclusion de- 
monstrated is not that such an event shall happen, but 
that the probability of its happening bears such a ratio to 
the probability of its failing ; and this conclusion is ne- 
cessary upon the suppositions on which it is grounded. 

7. The last kind of probable evidence I shall mention 
is that by which the knoion laivs of nature have been dis- 
covered, and the effects ichich have been produced by them 
informer ages, or ichich may be expected in time to come. 

The laws of nature are the rules by which the Supreme 
Being governs the world. We deduce them only from 
facts that fall within our own observation, or are properly 
attested by those who have observed them. 

The knowledge of some of the laws of nature is neces- 
sary to all men in the conduct of life. These are soon 
discovered, even by savages. They know that fire burns, 
that water drowns, that bodies gravitate towards the 
earth. They know that day and night, summer and win- 
ter, regularly succeed each other. As far back as their 
experience and information reach, they know that these 
have happened regularly; and, upon this ground, they are 
led, by the constitution of human nature, to expect that 
they will happen in time to come, in like circumstances. 

The knowledge which the philosopher attains of the 
laws of nature differs from that of the vulgar, not in the 
first principles on which it is grounded, but in its extent 
and accuracy. He collects with care the phenomena 
that lead to the same conclusion, and compares them with 
those that seem to contradict or to limit it. He observes 



418 REASONING. 

the circumstances on which, every phenomenon depends, 
and distinguishes them carefully from those that are acci- 
dentally conjoined with it. He puts natural bodies in 
various situations, and applies them to one another in 
various ways, on purpose to observe the effect ; and thus 
acquires from his senses a more extensive knowledge of 
the course of nature in a short time, than could be col- 
lected by casual observation in many ages. 

But what is the result of his laborious researches ? It 
is, that, as far as he has been able to observe, such things 
have always happened in such circumstances, and such 
bodies have always been found to have such properties. 
These are matters of fact, attested by sense, memory, 
and testimony, just as the few facts which the vulgar 
know are attested to them. 

And what conclusions does the philosopher draw from 
the facts he has collected ? They are, that like events 
have happened in former times in like circumstances, and 
will happen in time to come ; and these conclusions are 
built on the very same ground on which the simple rustic 
concludes that the sun will rise to-morrow. 

Facts reduced to general rules, and the consequences 
of those general rules, are all that we really know of the 
material world. And the evidence that such general 
rules have no exceptions, as well as the evidence that 
they will be the same in time to come as they have been 
in time past, can never be demonstrative. It is only that 
species of evidence which philosophers call probable. 
General rules may have exceptions or limitations which 
no man ever had occasion to observe. The laws of 
nature may be changed by Him who established them. 
But we are led by our constitution to rely upon their 
continuance with as little doubt as if it was demon- 
strable.* 

* As Reid gives an entire Essay to Reasoning, it is remarkable that 
he does not treat of induction by name, to which his last-mentioned 
form of probable reasoning belongs, nor mark the distinction between 
inductive and deductive reasoning. To supply this defect I copy a pas- 
sage from Jouffroy, {Introduction to Ethics, Lect. IX.,) one of the most 
faithful of Reid's followers: — 

" This is the process of reasoning by induction : — when several par- 
ticular cases, which are analogous, have been ascertained by observa- 



ABSOLUTE SKEPTICISM. HUME. 419 



CHAPTER III. 

OF MR. HUME'S SKEPTICISM WITH REGARD TO 
REASON. 

1. He reduces all Knoivledge to Probability.'] In the 
Treatise of Human Nature, Book I. Part IV. Sect. I., 
the author undertakes to prove two points : — First, that 
all that is called human knowledge (meaning demonstra- 
tive knowledge) is only probability ; and, secondly, that 
this probability, when duly examined, evanishes by de- 
grees, and leaves at last no evidence at all : so that, in 
the issue, there is no ground to believe any one proposi- 
tion rather than its contrary, and "all those are certainly 
fools who reason, or believe any thing." 

tion,and stored up in the memory, reason applies to this series of analo- 
gous observations the a priori principle that the laws of nature are 
constant ; and, at once, what was true through observation in only- 
twenty, thirty, or forty observed cases, becomes, by the application of 
this principle, a general law, as true of other cases not observed as of 
those which observation has ascertained. From the results of observa- 
tion, and solely by the application to these results of a conception of 
reason, the mind arrives at a consequence that transcends them. Such 
is the method of reasoning by induction. Its characteristic is, that it 
proceeds from certain results, communicated by observation, to a gen- 
eral principle, within which they are included. 

"The process of reasoning by deduction is as follows: — A truth of 
any kind, particular, general, or universal, being made known, reason 
deduces from it whatever other truths it includes. Sometimes the 
deduction is complete, in which case reason only presents the whole 
truth under two different aspects ; at other times the deduction is im- 
perfect, and then reason passes from the whole to a part. But in either 
case, if we compare together the results of our reasoning and the prem- 
ises from which we drew them, we shall always find that these results, 
and a part or the whole of the premises, are perfectly equivalent. This 
is the special characteristic of deductive reasoning." 

The following admirable passage on the verification of inductions 
is from the Quarterly Review, Vol. LXVIII. p. 233: — 

" It is of great moment to distinguish the characters of a sound induc- 
tion. One of them is its ready identification with our conception of 
facts, so as to make itself a part of them, to ingraft itself into language, 
and by no subsequent erlort of the mind to be got rid of. The leading 
term of a true theory once pronounced, we cannot fall back, even in 
thought, to that helpless state of doubt and bewilderment in which we 
gazed on the facts before. The general proposition is more than a sum 
of the particulars. Our dots are filled in and connected by an ideal 



420 REASONING. 

To pretend to prove by reasoning that there is no force 
in reason, does indeed look like a philosophical delirium. 
It is like a man's pretending to see clearly that he him- 
self and all other men are blind. 

Still it may not be improper to inquire, whether, as the 
author thinks, this state of mind was produced by a just 
application of the rules of logic, or, as others may be apt 
to think, by the misapplication and abuse of them. 

First, Because we are fallible, the author infers that all 
knowledge degenerates into probability. 

That man, and probably every created being, is falli- 
ble ; and that a fallible being cannot have that perfect 
comprehension and assurance of truth which an infallible 
being has, I think ought to be granted. It becomes a 
fallible being to be modest, open to new light, and sensi- 
ble that, by some false bias, or by rash judging, he may 
be misled. If this be called a degree of skepticism, I 

outline, which we pursue even beyond their limits, assign it a name, 
and speak of it as a thing. In all our propositions, this new tiling is 
referred to, the elements of which it is formed are forgotten; and thus 
we arrive at an inductive formula, — a general, perhaps a universal, 
proposition. 

"Another character of sound inductions is, that they enable us to 
predict. We feel secure that our rule is based upon the realities of 
nature, when it stands us in the stead of more experience ; when it 
embodies facts, as an experience wider than our own would do, and in 
away that our ordinary experience would never reach; when it will 
bear, not stress, but torture, and gives true results in cases studiously 
different from those which ied to the discovery. The theories of New- 
ton and Fresnel are full of such cases. In the latter, indeed, [the theory 
of polarization,] this test is carried to such an extreme, that theory has 
actually remanded back experiment to read her lesson anew, and con- 
victed her of blindness and error. It has informed her of facts so 
strange as to appear to her impossible, and showed her all the singu- 
larities she would observe in critical cases she never dreamed of trying. 

"Another character, which is exemplified only in the greatest theo- 
ries, is the consilience of inductions, where many and widely different 
lines of experience spring together into one theory which explains 
them all, and that in a more simple manner than seemed to be required 
for either separately. Thus, in the infinitely varied phenomena of 
physical astronom}', w r hen all are discussed and all explained, we hear 
from all quarters the consentaneous echoes of but one word, — gravi- 
tation." 

For recent authorities on the subject of induction, see Baden Pow- 
ell's Connection of Natural and Divine Truth, Sect. I. ; Whewell's 
Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Books I., XI., and XIII. ; Mill's 
Logic, Book III.; Whewell, On Induction with Special Reference to Mr. 
Mill's System of Logic. — Ed. 



ABSOLUTE SKEPTICISM. HUME. 421 

cannot help approving of it, being persuaded that the 
man who makes the best use he can of the faculties which 
God has given him, without thinking them more perfect 
than they really are, may have all the belief that is neces- 
sary in the conduct of life, and all that is necessary to his 
acceptance with his Maker. 

It is granted, then, that human judgments ought always 
to be formed with a humble sense of our fallibility in 
judging. This is all that can be inferred by the rules of 
logic from our being fallible. And if this be all that is 
meant by our knowledge degenerating into probability, I 
know no person of a different opinion. But it may be 
observed, that the author here uses the word probability 
in a sense for which I know no authority but his own. 
Philosophers understand probability as opposed to demon- 
stration ; the vulgar as opposed to certainty ; but this au- 
thor understands it as opposed to infallibility, which no 
man claims. 

One who believes himself to be fallible may still hold 
it to be certain that two and two make four, and that two 
contradictory propositions cannot both be true. He may 
believe some things to be probable only, and other things 
to be demonstrable, without making any pretence to infal- 
libility. 

If we use words in their proper meaning, it is impossi- 
ble that demonstration should degenerate into probability 
from the imperfection of our faculties. Our judgment 
cannot change the nature of the things about which we 
judge. What is really demonstration will still be so, 
whatever judgment we form concerning it. It may like- 
wise be observed, that when we mistake that for demon- 
stration which really is not, the consequence of this mis- 
take is, not that demonstration degenerates into probabili- 
ty, but that what we took to be demonstration is no proof 
at all ; for one false step in a demonstration destroys the 
whole, but cannot turn it into another kind of proof. 

Upon the whole, then, this first conclusion of our au- 
thor, that the fallibility of human judgment turns all 
knowledge into probability, if understood literally, is ab- 
surd ; but if it be only a figure of speech, and means no 
more than that, in all our judgments, we ought to be sen- 
36 



422 REASONING. 

sible of our fallibility, and ought to hold our opinions with 
that modesty that becomes fallible creatures, which I take 
to be what the author meant, this, I think, nobody denies, 
nor was it necessary to enter into a laborious proof of it. 

II. And all Probability to Nothing.] The second 
point which he attempts to prove is, that this probabili- 
ty, when duly examined, suffers a continual diminution, 
and at last a total extinction. 

The obvious consequence of this is, that no fallible be- 
ing can have good reason to believe any thing at all ; but 
let us hear the proof. 

" In every judgment, we ought to correct the first judg- 
ment derived from the nature of the object, by another 
judgment derived from -the nature of the understanding. 
Beside the original uncertainty inherent in the subject, 
there arises another, derived from the weakness of the 
faculty which judges. Having adjusted these two uncer- 
tainties together, we are obliged, by our reason, to add a 
new uncertainty, derived from the possibility of error in 
the estimation we make of the truth and fidelity of our 
faculties. This is a doubt, of which, if we would closely 
pursue our reasoning, we cannot avoid giving a decision. 
But this decision, though it should be favorable to our 
preceding judgment, being founded only on probability, 
must weaken still further our first evidence. The third 
uncertainty must in like manner be criticized by a fourth, 
and so on without end. 

" Now, as every one of these uncertainties takes away 
a part of the original evidence, it must at last be reduced 
to nothing. Let our first belief be ever so strong, it must 
infallibly perish by passing through so many examinations, 
each of which carries off somewhat of its force and vigor. 
No finite object can subsist under a decrease repeated in 
infinitum." 

This is the author's Achillean argument against the ev- 
idence of reason, from which he concludes, that a man 
who would govern his belief by reason must believe noth- 
ing at all, and that belief is an act, not of the cogitative, 
but of the sensitive part of our nature. If there be any 
such thing as motion, said an ancient skeptic, the swift- 



ABSOLUTE SKEPTICISM. HUME. 423 

footed Achilles could never overtake an old man in a 
journey. For, suppose the old man to set out a thousand 
paces before Achilles, and that, while Achilles has trav- 
elled the thousand paces, the old man has got five hun- 
dred ; when Achilles has gone the five hundred, the old 
man has gone two hundred and fifty ; and when Achilles 
has gone the two hundred and fifty, the old man is still 
one hundred and twenty-five before him. Repeat these 
estimations in infinitum, and you will still find the old man 
foremost ; therefore Achilles can never overtake him ; 
therefore there can be no such thing as motion. 

The reasoning of the modern skeptic against reason is 
equally ingenious, and equally convincing. Indeed, they 
have a great similarity. If we trace the journey of 
Achilles two thousand paces, we shall find the very point 
where the old man is overtaken : but this short journey, 
by dividing it into an infinite number of stages, with cor- 
responding estimations, is made to appear infinite. In 
like manner, our author, subjecting every judgment to an 
infinite number of successive probable estimations, re- 
duces the evidence to nothing. 

To return, then, to the argument of the modern skep- 
tic. I examine the proof of a theorem of Euclid. It 
appears to me to be strict demonstration. But I may 
have overlooked some fallacy ; therefore I examine it 
again and again, but can find no flaw in it. I find all that 
have examined it agree with me. I have now that evi- 
dence of the truth of the proposition which I and all men 
call demonstration, and that belief of it which we call 
certainty. 

Here my skeptical friend interposes, and assures me, 
that the rules of logic reduce this demonstration to no ev- 
idence at all. I am willing to hear what step in it he 
thinks fallacious, and why. Pie makes no objection to 
any part of the demonstration, but pleads my fallibility in 
judging. I have made the proper allowance for this al- 
ready, by being open to conviction. " But," says he, 
" there are two uncertainties, the first inherent in the sub- 
ject, which I have already shown to have only probable 
evidence ; the second arising from the weakness of the 
faculty that judges." I answer, it is the weakness of the 
faculty only that reduces this demonstration to what you 



424 REASONING. 

call probability. You must not, therefore, make it a sec- 
ond uncertainty ; for it is the same with the first. To 
take credit twice in an account for the same article is not 
agreeable to the rules of logic. Hitherto, therefore, there 
is but one uncertainty, — to wit, my fallibility in judging. 

"But," says my friend, "you are obliged by reason 
to add a new uncertainty, derived from the possibility of 
error in the estimation you make of the truth and fidelity 
of your faculties." I answer, — This estimation is am- 
biguously expressed ; it may either mean an estimation of 
my liableness to err by the misapplication and abuse of 
my faculties, or it may mean an estimation of my liable- 
ness to err by conceiving my faculties to be true and 
faithful, while they may be false and fallacious in them- 
selves, even when applied in the best manner. I shall 
consider this estimation in each of these senses. 

If the first be the estimation meant, it is true that rea- 
son directs us, as fallible creatures, to carry along with 
us, in all our judgments, a sense of our fallibility. It is 
true, also, that we are in greater danger of erring in some 
cases, and less in others ; and that this danger of erring 
may, according to the circumstances of the case, admit 
of an estimation, which we ought likewise to carry along 
with us in every judgment we form. 

After repeated examination of a proposition of Euclid, 
I judge it to be strictly demonstrated ; this is my first 
judgment. But as I am liable to err from various causes, 
I consider how far I may have been misled by any of 
these causes in this judgment. My decision upon this 
second point is favorable to my first judgment, and there- 
fore, as I apprehend, must strengthen it. To say, that 
this decision, because it is only probable, must weaken 
the first evidence, seems to me contrary to all rules of 
logic, and to common sense. The first judgment may be 
compared to the testimony of a credible witness ; the sec- 
ond, after a scrutiny into the character of the witness, 
wipes ofF every objection that can be made to it, and 
therefore surely mustconfirm andnot weaken his testimony. 

But let us suppose, that, in another case, I examine 
my first judgment upon some point, and find, that it was 
attended with unfavorable circumstances. What, in rea- 



ABSOLUTE SKEPTICISM. HUME. 425 

f 

son, and according to the rules of logic, ought to be the 
effect of this discovery ? 

The effect surely will be, and ought to be, to make me 
less confident in my first judgment, until I examine the 
point anew in more favorable circumstances. If it be a 
matter of importance, I return to weigh the evidence of 
my first judgment. If it was precipitate before, it must 
now be deliberate in every point. If at first I was in 
passion, I must now be cool. If I had an interest in the 
decision, I must place the interest on the other side. 

It is evident, that this review of the subject may confirm 
my first judgment, notwithstanding the suspicious circum- 
stances that attended it. Though the judge was biased 
or corrupted, it does not follow, that the sentence was 
unjust. The rectitude of the decision does not depend 
upon the character of the judge, but upon the nature of 
the case. From that only it must be determined whether 
the decision be just. The circumstances that rendered it 
suspicious are mere presumptions, which have no force 
against direct evidence. 

Thus, I have considered the effect of this estimation of 
our liableness to err in our first judgment, and have allow- 
ed to it all the effect that reason and the rules of logic 
permit. In the case I first supposed, and in every case 
where we can discover no cause of error, it affords a 
presumption in favor of the first judgment. In other 
cases, it may afford a presumption against it. But the 
rules of logic require that we should not judge by pre- 
sumptions where we have direct evidence. The effect 
of an unfavorable presumption should only be, to make us 
examine the evidence with the greater care. 

The skeptic urges, in the last place, that this estima- 
tion must be subjected to another estimation, that to an- 
other, and so on in infinitum ; and as every new estima- 
tion takes away from the evidence of the first judgment, 
it must at last be totally annihilated. ■ 

I answer, first, it has been shown above, that the first 
estimation, supposing it unfavorable, can only afford a 
presumption against the first judgment ; the second, upon 
the same supposition, will be only the presumption of a 
presumption ; and the third, the presumption that there is 
36* 



426 REASONING. 

a presumption of a presumplion. This infinite series of 
presumptions resembles an infinite series of quantities de- 
creasing in geometrical proportion, which amounts only to 
a finite sum. The infinite series of stages of Achilles's 
journey after the old man amounts only to two thousand 
paces ; nor can this infinite series of presumptions out- 
weigh one solid argument in favor of the first judgment, 
supposing them all to be unfavorable to it. 

Secondly, I have shown that the estimation of our 
first judgment may strengthen it; and the same thing may 
be said of all the subsequent estimations. It would, 
therefore, be as reasonable to conclude, that the first 
judgment will be brought to infallible certainty when this 
series of estimations is wholly in its favor, as that its evi- 
dence will be brought to nothing by such a series sup- 
posed to be wholly unfavorable to it. But, in reality, 
one serious and cool reexamination of the evidence by 
which our first judgment is supported has, and, in reason, 
ought to have, more force to strengthen or weaken it, than 
an infinite series of such estimations as our author requires. 

Thirdly, I know no reason nor rule in logic that re- 
quires that such a series of estimations should follow every 
particular judgment. 

The author's reasoning supposes, that a man, when he 
forms his first judgment, conceives himself to be infalli- 
ble ; that by a second and subsequent judgment, he dis- 
covers that he is not infallible ; and that by a third 
judgment, subsequent to the second, he estimates his 
liableness to err in such a case as the present. 

If the man proceed in this order, I grant that his sec- 
ond judgment will, with good reason, bring down the 
first from supposed infallibility to fallibility ; and that his 
third judgment will, in some degree, either strengthen or 
weaken the first, as it is corrected by the second. But 
every man of understanding proceeds in a contrary order. 
When about to judge in any particular point, he knows 
already that he is not infallible. He knows what are the 
cases in which he is most or least liable to err. The 
conviction of these things is always present to his mind, 
and influences the degree of his assent in his first judg- 
ment, as far as to him appears reasonable. If he should 
afterwards find reason to suspect his first judgment, and 



ABSOLUTE SKEPTICISM. — HUME. 427 

desires to have all the satisfaction his faculties can give, 
reason will direct him not to form such a series of esti- 
mations upon estimations as this author requires, but to 
examine the evidence of his first judgment carefully and 
coolly ; and this review may very reasonably, according 
to its result, either strengthen or weaken, or totally over- 
turn, his first judgment. 

This infinite series of estimations, therefore, is not the 
method that reason directs in order to form our judg- 
ment in any case. It is introduced without necessity, 
without any use but to puzzle the understanding, and to 
make us think, that to judge, even in the simplest and 
plainest cases, is a matter of insurmountable difficulty and 
endless labor ; just as the ancient skeptic, to make a 
journey of two thousand paces appear endless, divided it 
into an infinite number of stages. 

But we observed, that the estimation which our author 
requires may admit of another meaning, which, indeed, is 
more agreeable to the expression, but inconsistent with 
what he advanced before. 

By the possibility of error in the estimation of the truth 
and fidelity of our faculties, may be meant, that we may 
err by esteeming our faculties true and faithful, while, in 
fact, they may be false and fallacious, even when used 
according to the rules of reason and logic. 

If this be meant, I answer, first, that the truth and 
fidelity of our faculty of judging are, and must be, taken 
for granted in every judgment and in every estimation. 

If the skeptic can seriously doubt of the truth and 
fidelity of his faculty of judging when properly used, and 
suspend his judgment upon that point till he finds proof, 
his skepticism admits of no cure by reasoning, and he 
must even continue in it until he have new faculties given 
him, which shall have authority to sit in judgment upon 
the old. Nor is there any need of an endless succession 
of doubts upon this subject, for the first puts an end to 
all judgment and reasoning, and to the possibility of con- 
viction by that means. The skeptic has here got posses- 
sion of a stronghold which is impregnable to reasoning, 
and we must leave him in possession of it, till nature, by 
other means, makes him give it up. 

Secondly, I observe, that this ground of skepticism, 



428 REASONING. 

from the supposed infidelity of our faculties, contradicts 
what the author before advanced in this very argument, to 
wit, that " the rules of the demonstrative sciences are 
certain and infallible, and that truth is the natural effect of 
reason, and that error arises from the irruption of other 
causes." 

But perhaps he made these concessions unwarily. He 
is therefore at liberty to retract them, and to rest his 
skepticism upon this sole foundation, that no reasoning 
can prove the truth and fidelity of our faculties. Here he 
stands upon firm ground : for it is evident, that every 
argument offered to prove the truth and fidelity of our 
faculties takes for granted the thing in question, and is 
therefore that kind of sophism which logicians call peti- 
tio principii. 

All we would ask of this kind of skeptic is, that he 
would be uniform and consistent, and that his practice in 
life do not belie his profession of skepticism with regard 
to the fidelity of his faculties : for the want of faith, as 
well as faith itself, is best shown by works. If a skeptic 
avoid the fire as much as those who believe it dangerous 
to go into it, we can hardly avoid thinking his skepticism 
to be feigned, and not real. 

Our author, indeed, was aware, that neither his skep- 
ticism, nor that of any other person, was able to endure 
this trial, and therefore enters a caveat against it. "Nei- 
ther I," says he, " nor any other person, was ever sin- 
cerely and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an 
absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us 
to judge, as well as to breathe and feel." 

Upon the whole, I see only two conclusions that can be 
fairly drawn from this profound and intricate reasoning 
against reason. The first is, that we are fallible in all 
our judgments and in all our reasonings. The second, 
that the truth and fidelity of our faculties can never be 
proved by reasoning ; and therefore our trust in them 
cannot be founded on reasoning. If the last be what the 
author calls his hypothesis, I subscribe to it, and think it 
not an hypothesis, but a manifest truth ; though I conceive 
it to be very improperly expressed by saying that belief is 
more properly an act of the sensitive than of the cogitative 
part of our nature. 



ESSAY YIII 

OF TASTE. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF TASTE IN GENERAL. 

That power of the mind by which we are capable of 
discerning and relishing the beauties of nature, and what- 
ever is excellent in the fine arts, is called taste. 

In treating of this as an intellectual power of the mind, 
I intend only to make some observations, first on its na- 
ture, and then on its objects. 

1. In the external sense of taste, we are led by reason 
and reflection to distinguish between the agreeable sensa- 
tion we feel, and the quality in the object which occasions 
it. Both have the same name, and on that account are 
apt to be confounded by the vulgar, and even by philos- 
ophers. The sensation I feel when I taste any sapid 
body is in my mind ; but there is a real quality in the 
body which is the cause of this sensation. These two 
things have the same name in language, not from any 
similitude in their nature, but because the one is the sign 
of the other, and because there is little occasion in com- 
mon life to distinguish them. This was fully explained in 
treating of the Secondary Qualities of Bodies. The rea- 
son of taking notice of it now is, that the internal power of 
taste bears a great analogy in this respect to the external. 

When a beautiful object is before us, we may distin- 
guish the agreeable emotion it produces in us, from the 
quality of the object which causes that emotion. When 
I hear an air in music that pleases me, I say it is fine, 
it is excellent. This excellence is not in me ; it is in the 



430 TASTE. 

music. But the pleasure it gives is not in the music ; 
it is in me. Perhaps I cannot say what it is in the tune 
that pleases my ear, as I cannot say what it is in a sapid 
body that pleases my palate ; but there is a quality in the 
sapid body which pleases my palate, and I call it a deli- 
cious taste ; and there is a quality in the tune that pleases 
my taste, and I call it a fine or an excellent air. 

But though some of the qualities that please a good 
taste resemble the secondary qualities of body, and there- 
fore may be called occult qualities, as we only feel their 
effect, and have no more knowledge of the cause but 
that it is something which is adapted by nature to pro- 
duce that effect, this is not always the case. Our judg- 
ment of beauty is, in many cases, more enlightened. A 
work of art may appear beautiful to the most ignorant, 
even Jo a child. It pleases, but he knows not why. To 
one who understands it perfectly, and perceives how 
every part is fitted with exact judgment to its end, the 
beauty is not mysterious ; it is perfectly comprehended ; 
and he knows wherein it consists, as well as how it affects 
him. 

2. We may observe, that, though all the tastes we 
perceive by the palate are either agreeable or disagree- 
able, or indifferent ; yet, among those that are agreeable, 
there is a great diversity, not in degree only, but in kind. 
And as we have not generical names for all the different 
kinds of taste, we distinguish them by the bodies in which 
they are found. In like manner, all the objects of our 
internal taste are either beautiful, or disagreeable, or in- 
different ; yet of beauty there is a great diversity, not 
only of degree, but of kind : the beauty of a demonstra- 
tion, the beauty of a poem, the beauty of a palace, the 
beauty of a piece of music, the beauty of a fine woman, 
and many more that might be named, are different kinds 
of beauty ; and we have no names to distinguish them, 
but the names of the different objects to which they be- 
long. 

As there is such diversity in the kinds of beauty as 
well as in the degrees, we need not think it strange that 
philosophers have gone into different systems in analyzing 
it, and enumerating its simple ingredients. They have 



ITS NATURE. 431 

made many just observations on the subject ; but, from 
the love of simplicity, have reduced it to fewer principles 
than the nature of the thing will permit, having had in 
their eye some particular kinds of beauty, while they over- 
looked others. 

There are moral beauties as well as natural ; beauties 
in the objects of sense, and in intellectual objects ; in the 
works of men, and in the works of God ; in things inan- 
imate, in brute animals, and in rational beings ; in the 
constitution of the body of man, and in the constitution of 
his mind. There is no real excellence which has not its 
beauty to a discerning eye, when placed in a proper point 
of view ; and it is as difficult to enumerate the ingredients 
of beauty as the ingredients of real excellence. 

3. Those who conceive that there is no standard in 
nature by which taste may be regulated, and that the 
common proverb, that there ought to be no dispute about 
taste, is to be taken in the utmost latitude, go upon slen- 
der and insufficient ground. The same arguments might 
be used with equal force against any standard of truth. 
Whole nations by the force of prejudice are brought to 
believe the grossest absurdities ; and why should it be 
thought that the taste is less capable of being perverted 
than the judgment ? It must indeed be acknowledged, 
that men differ more in the. faculty of taste than in what 
we commonly call judgment ; and therefore it may be 
expected that they should be more liable to have their 
taste corrupted in matters of beauty and deformity, than 
their judgment in matters of truth and error. 

If we make due allowance for this, we shall see that it 
is as easy to account for the variety of tastes, though 
there be in nature a standard of true beauty, and, con- 
sequently, of good taste, as it is to account for the vari- 
ety and contrariety of opinions, though there be in nature 
a standard of truth, and consequently of right judgment. 

4. Nay, if we speak accurately and strictly, we shall 
find that, in every operation of taste, there is judgment 
implied. 

When a man pronounces a poem or a palace to be 
beautiful, he affirms something of that poem or that pal- 
ace ; and every affirmation or denial expresses judgment. 



432 TASTE. 

For we cannot better define judgment, than by saying that 
it is an affirmation or denial of one thing concerning an- 
other. I had occasion to show, when treating of judg- 
ment, that it is implied in every perception of our exter- 
nal senses. There is an immediate conviction and belief 
of the existence of the quality perceived, whether it be 
color, or sound, or figure ; and the same thing holds in 
the perception of beauty or deformity. 

If it be said, that the perception of beauty is merely a 
feeling in the mind that perceives, without any belief of 
excellence in the object, the necessary consequence of 
this opinion is, that when I say Virgil's Georgics is a 
beautiful poem, I mean not to say any thing of the poem, 
but only something concerning myself and my feelings. 
Why should I use a language that expresses the contrary 
of what I mean ? My language, according to the neces- 
sary rules of construction, can bear no other meaning but 
this, that there is something in the poem, and not in me, 
which I call beauty. Even those who hold beauty to be 
merely a feeling in the person that perceives it, find 
themselves under a necessity of expressing themselves as 
if beauty were solely a quality of the object, and not of 
the percipient. 

Our judgment of beauty is not, indeed, a dry and un- 
affecting judgment, like that of a mathematical or meta- 
physical truth. By the constitution of our nature, it is 
accompanied with an agreeable feeling or emotion, for 
which we have no other name but the sense of beauty. 
This sense of beauty, like the perceptions of our other 
senses, implies not only a feeling, but an opinion of some 
quality in the object which occasions that feeling. 

In objects that please the taste, we always judge that 
there is some real excellence, some superiority to those 
that do not please. In some cases, that superior excel- 
lence is distinctly perceived, and can be pointed out ; in 
other cases, we have only a general notion of some ex- 
cellence which we cannot describe. Beauties of the 
former kind may be compared to the primary qualities 
perceived by the external senses ; those of the latter 
kind, to the secondary. 

5. Beauty or deformity in an object results from its 



ITS OBJECTS. 433 

nature or structure. To perceive the beauty, therefore, 
we must perceive the nature or structure from which it 
results. In this the internal sense differs from the ex- 
ternal. Our external senses may discover qualities which 
do not depend upon any antecedent perception. Thus 
I can hear the sound of a bell, though I never perceived 
any thing else belonging to it. But it is impossible to per- 
ceive the beauty of an object without perceiving the ob- 
ject, or at least conceiving it. On this account, Dr. 
Hutcheson called the senses of beauty and harmony reflex 
or secondary senses ; because the beauty cannot be per- 
ceived unless the object be perceived by some other 
power of the mind, Thus the sense of harmony and 
melody in sounds supposes the external sense of hearing, 
and is a kind of secondary to it. A man born deaf may 
be a good judge of beauties of another kind, but can have 
no notion of melody or harmony. The like may be said 
of beauties in coloring and in figure, which can never be 
perceived without the senses by which color and figure 
are perceived. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF THE OBJECTS OF TASTE. 

A philosophical analysis of the objects of taste is 
like applying the anatomical knife to a fine face. The 
design of the philosopher, as well as of the anatomist, is, 
not to gratify taste, but to improve knowledge. The 
reader ought to be aware of this, that he may not enter- 
tain an expectation in which he will be disappointed. 

By the objects of taste, I mean those qualities or at- 
tributes of things, which are by nature adapted to please 
a good taste. Mr. Addison, and Dr. Akenside after 
him, have reduced them to three, to wit, novelty, grand- 
eur, and beauty. This division is sufficient for all I 
intend to say upon the subject, and therefore I shall adopt 
37 



434 TASTE. 

it ; — observing only, that beauty is often taken in so ex- 
tensive a sense as to comprehend all the objects of taste ; 
yet all the authors I have met with, who have given a 
division of the objects of taste, make beauty one species. 
I take the reason of this to be, that we have specific 
names for some of the qualities that please the taste, but 
not for all ; and therefore all those fall under the gen- 
eral name of beauty for which there is no specific name in 
the division. 

I. First Object of Taste. — Novelty.] Novelty is 
not properly a quality of the thing to which we attribute 
it, far less is it a sensation in the mind to which it is new : 
it is a relation which the thing has to the knowledge of the 
person. What is new to one man may not be so to 
another ; what is new this moment may be familiar to 
the same person some time hence. When an object is 
first brought to our knowledge, it is new, whether it be 
agreeable or not. It is evident, therefore, with regard to 
novelty (whatever may be said of other objects of taste), 
that it is not merely a sensation in the mind of him to 
whom the thing is new ; it is a real relation which the 
thing has to his knowledge at that time. 

But we are so constituted, that what is new to us com- 
monly gives pleasure upon that account, if it be not in it- 
self disagreeable. It rouses our attention, and occasions 
an agreeable exertion of our faculties. 

We can perhaps conceive a being so made, that his 
happiness consists in a continuance of the same unvaried 
sensations or feelings, without any active exertion on his 
part. Whether this be possible or not, it is evident that 
man is not such a being. His good consists in the vigor- 
ous exertion of his active and intellective powers upon 
their proper objects ; he is made for action and progress, 
and cannot be happy without it ; his enjoyments seem to 
be given by nature, not so much for their own sake, as to 
encourage the exercise of his various powers. That 
tranquillity of soul in which some place human happiness 
is not a dead rest, but a regular progressive motion. 

Such is the constitution of man by the appointment of 
nature. This constitution is perhaps a part of the imper- 



ITS OBJECTS. — NOVELTY. 435 

fection of our nature ; but it is wisely adapted to our 
state, which is not intended to be stationary, but pro- 
gressive. The eye is not satiated with seeing, nor the 
ear with hearing ; something is always wanted. Desire 
and hope never cease, but. remain to spur us on to some- 
thing yet to be acquired ; and, if they could cease, hu- 
man happiness must end with them. That our desire and 
hope be properly directed, is our part ; that they can 
never be extinguished, is the work of nature. 

But the pleasure derived from new objects, in many 
cases, is not owing solely or chiefly to their being new, 
but to some other circumstance that gives them value. 
The new fashion in dress, furniture, equipage, and other 
accommodations of life, gives pleasure, not so much, as I 
apprehend, because it is new, as because it is a sign of 
rank, and distinguishes a man from the vulgar. 

In some things novelty is due, and the want of it a real 
imperfection. Thus, if an author adds to the number of 
books with which the public is already overloaded, we 
expect from him something new ; and if he says nothing 
but what has been said before, in as agreeable a manner, 
we are justly disgusted. 

When novelty is altogether separated from the concep- 
tion of worth and utility, it makes but a slight impression 
upon a truly correct taste. Every discovery in nature, in 
the arts, and in the sciences, has a real value, and gives a 
rational pleasure to a good taste. But things that have 
nothing to recommend them but novelty are fit only to 
entertain children, or those who are distressed from a va- 
cuity of thought. This quality of objects may therefore 
be compared to the cipher in arithmetic, which adds 
greatly to the value of significant figures, but, when put 
by itself, signifies nothing at all. 

II. Second Object of Taste. — Grandeur.~\ We are 
next to consider what grandeur in objects is. To me it 
seems to be nothing else than such a degree of excellence, 
in one kind or another, as merits our admiration. 

There are some attributes of mind which have a real 
and intrinsic excellence, compared with their contraries, 
and which, in every degree, are the natural objects of es- 



436 TASTE. 

teem, but in an uncommon degree are objects of admi- 
ration. We put a value upon them because they are in- 
trinsically valuable and excellent. 

The spirit of modern philosophy would indeed lead us 
to think, that the worth and value we put upon things is 
only a sensation in our minds, and not any thing inherent 
in the object ; and that we might have been so constituted 
as to put the highest value upon the things which we now 
despise, and to despise the qualities which we now highly 
esteem. But if we hearken to the dictates of common 
sense, we must be convinced that there is real excellence 
in some things, whatever our feelings or our constitution 
be. It depends, no doubt, upon our constitution, whether 
we do or do not perceive excellence where it really is ; 
but the object has its excellence from its own constitution, 
and not from ours. 

The common judgment of mankind in this matter suffi- 
ciently appears in the language of all nations, which uni- 
formly ascribes excellence, grandeur, and beauty to the 
object, and not to the mind that perceives it. And I be- 
lieve in this, as in most other things, we shall find the 
common judgment of mankind and true philosophy not to 
be at variance. 

Is not power in its nature more excellent than weak- 
ness, knowledge than ignorance, wisdom than folly, for- 
titude than pusillanimity ? Is there no intrinsic excellence 
in self-command, in generosity, in public spirit ? Is not 
friendship a better affection of mind than hatred, — a noble 
emulation, than envy ? Let us suppose, if possible, a 
being so constituted, as to have a high respect for igno- 
rance, weakness, and folly; to venerate cowardice, malice, 
and envy, and to hold the contrary qualities in contempt ; 
to have an esteem for lying and falsehood, and to love 
most those who impose upon him, and use him worst. 
Could we believe such a constitution to be any thing else 
than madness and delirium ? It is impossible. We can 
as easily conceive a constitution by which one should per- 
ceive two and three to make fifteen, or a part to be 
greater than the whole. 

Every one who attends to the operations of his own 
mind will find it to be certainly true, as it is the common 



ITS OBJECTS. — GRANDEUR. 437 

belief of mankind, that esteem is led by opinion, and that 
every person draws our esteem as far only as he appears, 
either to reason or fancy, to be amiable and worthy. 

There is, therefore, a real intrinsic excellence in some 
qualities of mind, — as in power, knowledge, wisdom, 
virtue, magnanimity. These in every degree merit es- 
teem ; but in an uncommon degree they merit admiration ; 
and that which merits admiration we call grand. 

In the contemplation of uncommon excellence the 
mind feels a noble enthusiasm, which disposes it to the 
imitation of what it admires. When we contemplate the 
character of Cato, his greatness of soul, his superiority to 
pleasure, to toil, and to danger, his ardent zeal for the 
liberty of his country ; when we see him standing un- 
moved in misfortunes, the last pillar of the liberty of 
Rome, and falling nobly in his country's ruin, — who 
would not wish to be Cato, rather than Csesar in all his 
triumph ? Such a spectacle of a great soul struggling 
with misfortune, Seneca thought not unworthy of the at- 
tention of Jupiter himself. Ecce spectaculum Deo dig- 
num, ad quod respiciat Jupiter suo operi intentus, vir for- 
tis cum mala fortuna compositus. 

As the Deity is, of all objects of thought, the most 
grand, the descriptions given in Holy Writ of his attri- 
butes and works, even when clothed in simple expression, 
are acknowledged to be sublime. The expression of 
Moses, " And God said, Let there be light; and there 
was light,"* has not escaped the notice of Longinus, a 
heathen critic, as an example of the sublime. 

Hitherto we have found grandeur only in qualities of 
mind ; but it may be asked, Is there no real grandeur in 
material objects ? 

It will perhaps appear extravagant to deny that there is ; 
yet it deserves to be considered, whether all the grandeur 
we ascribe to objects of sense be not derived from some- 
thing intellectual, of which they are the effects or signs, or 
to which they bear some relation or analogy. Besides the 
relations of effect and cause, of sign and thing signified, 
there are innumerable similitudes and analogies between 

* Better translated, "Be there light ; and light there was." — H. 

37* 



438 TASTE. 

things of very different nature, which lead us to connect 
them in our imagination, and to ascribe to the one what 
properly belongs to the other. Every metaphor in lan- 
guage is an instance of this ; and it must be remembered, 
that a very great part of language, which we now account 
proper, was originally metaphorical ; for the metaphorical 
meaning becomes the proper as soon as it becomes the 
most usual ; much more, when that which was at first the 
proper meaning falls into disuse. 

Thus the names of grand and sublime, as well as their 
opposites, mean and low, are evidently borrowed from the 
dimensions of body ; yet it must be acknowledged, that 
many things are truly grand and sublime, to which we 
cannot ascribe the dimensions of height and extension. 
Some analogy there is, without doubt, between greatness 
of dimension, which is an object of external sense, and 
that grandeur which is an object of taste. On account of 
this analogy, the last borrows its name from the first ; and 
the name being common, leads us to conceive that there is 
something common in the nature of the things. But we 
shall find many qualities of mind, denoted by names taken 
from some quality of body to which they have some anal- 
ogy, without any thing common in their nature. 

Sweetness and austerity, simplicity and duplicity, recti- 
tude and crookedness, are names common to certain qual- 
ities of mind, and to qualities of body to which they have 
some analogy ; yet he would err greatly who ascribed to a 
body that sweetness or that simplicity which are the qual- 
ities of mind. In like manner, greatness and meanness 
are names common to qualities perceived by the external 
sense, and to qualities perceived by taste ; yet he may be 
in an error, who ascribes to the objects of sense that 
greatness or that meanness which is only an object of 
taste. 

As intellectual objects are made more level to our ap- 
prehension by giving them a visible form, so the objects 
of sense are dignified and made more august by ascribing 
to them intellectual qualities which have some analogy to 
those they really possess. The sea rages, the sky lowers, 
the meadows smile, the rivulets murmur, the breezes 
whisper, the soil is grateful or ungrateful, — such expres- 



ITS OBJECTS. GRANDEUR. 



439 



sions are so familiar in common language, that they are 
scarcely accounted poetical or figurative ; but they give a 
kind of dignity to inanimate objects, and make our con- 
ception of them more agreeable. 

When we consider matter as an inert, extended, divis- 
ible, and movable substance, there seems to be nothing 
in these qualities which we can call grand ; and when we 
ascribe grandeur to any portion of matter, however modi- 
fied, may it not borrow this quality from something intel- 
lectual, of which it is the effect, or sign, or instrument, or 
to which it bears some analogy ? or it may be because it 
produces in the mind an emotion that has some res em" 
blance to that admiration which truly grand objects raise. 

A very elegant writer on the sublime and beautiful 
[Burke] makes every thing grand or sublime that is ter- 
rible. Might he not be led to this by the similarity be- 
tween dread and admiration ? Both are grave and sol- 
emn passions ; both make a strong impression upon the 
mind ; and both are very infectious. But they differ 
specifically, in this respect, that admiration supposes 
some uncommon excellence in its object, which dread does 
not. We may admire what we see no reason to dread ; 
and we may dread what we do not admire. In dread 
there is nothing of that enthusiasm which naturally accom- 
panies admiration, and is a chief ingredient of the emotion 
raised by what is truly grand or sublime. 

Upon the whole, I humbly apprehend that true grand- 
eur is such a degree of excellence as is fit to raise an en- 
thusiastical admiration ; that this grandeur is found origi- 
nally and properly in qualities of mind ; that it is discerned 
in objects of sense only by reflection, as the light we per- 
ceive in the moon and planets is truly the light of the 
sun ; and that those who look for grandeur in mere mat- 
ter seek the living among the dead. 

If this be a mistake, it ought at least to be granted that 
the grandeur which we perceive in qualities of mind ought 
to have a different name from that which belongs properly 
to the objects of sense, as they are very different in their 
nature, and produce very different emotions in the mind 
of the spectator. 



440 TASTE. 

III. Third Object of Taste. — Beauty.'] All the ob- 
jects we call beautiful agree in two things, which seem to 
concur in our sense of beauty. First, when they are 
perceived, or even imagined, they produce a certain 
agreeable emotion or feeling in the mind ; and secondly, 
this agreeable emotion is accompanied with an opinion or 
belief of their having some perfection or excellence be- 
longing to them. 

1. Whether the pleasure we feel in contemplating 
beautiful objects may have any necessary connection with 
the belief of their excellence, or whether that pleasure be 
conjoined with this belief by the good pleasure only of 
our Maker, I will not determine. The reader may see 
Dr. Price's sentiments upon this subject, which merit 
consideration, in the second chapter of his Review of the 
Questions concerning Morals. At any rate, the pleasure 
exists. " There is nothing," says Mr. Addison, "that 
makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty, 
which immediately diffuses a secret satisfaction and com- 
placence through the imagination, and gives a finishing to 
any thing that is great and uncommon. The very first dis- 
covery of it strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads 
a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties." 

As we ascribe beauty, not only to persons, but to inan- 
imate things, we give the name of love or liking to the 
emotion which beauty, in both these kinds of objects, 
produces. It is evident, however, that liking to a person 
is a very different affection of mind from liking to an 
inanimate thing. The first always implies benevolence ; 
but what is inanimate cannot be the object of benevo- 
lence. Still, the two affections, however different, have a 
resemblance in some respects ; and, on account of that re- 
semblance, have the same name : and perhaps beauty, in 
these two different kinds of objects, though it has one 
name, may be as different in its nature as the emotions 
which it produces in us. 

2. Besides the agreeable emotion which beautiful ob- 
jects produce in the mind of the spectator, they produce 
also an opinion or judgment of some perfection or excel- 
lence in the object. 

The feeling is, no doubt, in the mind, and so also is 



ITS OBJECTS. BEAUTY. 441 

the judgment we form of the object : but this judgment, 
like all others, must be true or false. If it be a true judg- 
ment, there is some real excellence in the object. And 
the use of all languages shows, that the name of beauty 
belongs to this excellence of the object, and not to the 
feelings of the spectator. 

We have reason to believe, not only that the beau- 
ties we see in nature are real, and not fanciful, but that 
there are thousands which our faculties are too dull 
to perceive. The man who is skilled in painting or 
statuary sees more of the beauty of a fine picture or 
statue than a common spectator. The same thing 
holds in all the fine arts. The most perfect works of 
art have a beauty that strikes even the rude and ignorant ; 
but they see only a small part of that beauty which is seen 
in such works by those who understand them perfectly, 
and can produce them. This may be applied with no 
less justice to the works of nature. They have a beauty 
that strikes even the ignorant and inattentive. But the 
more we discover of their structure, of their mutual rela- 
tions, and of the laws by which they are governed, the 
greater beauty, and the more delightful marks of art, wis- 
dom, and goodness, we discern. Superior beings may 
see more than we ; but He only who made them, and 
upon a review pronounced them all to be very good, can 
see all their beauty. 

Our determinations with regard to the beauty of objects 
may, I think, be distinguished into two kinds ; the first we 
may call instinctive, the other rational. 

(1.) Some objects strike us at once, and appear beau- 
tiful at first sight, without any reflection, without our being 
able to say why we call them beautiful, or being able to 
specify any perfection which justifies our judgment. 
Something of this kind there seems to be in brute ani- 
mals, and in children before the use of reason ; nor does 
it end with infancy, but continues through life. In the 
plumage of birds, and of butterflies, in the colors and 
form of flowers, of shells, and of many other objects, we 
perceive a beauty that delights ; but cannot say what it is 
in the object that should produce that emotion. 

The beauty of the object may, in such cases, be called 



442 TASTE. 

an occult quality. We know well how it affects our sen- 
ses ; but what it is in itself we know not. But this, as 
well as other occult qualities, is a proper subject of philo- 
sophical disquisition ; and, by a careful examination of 
the objects to which nature has given this amiable quality, 
we may perhaps discover some real excellence in the 
object, or at least some valuable purpose that is served 
by the effect which it produces upon us. 

This instinctive sense of beauty, in different species of 
animals, may differ as much as the external sense of 
taste, and in each species be adapted to its manner of life. 
By this, perhaps, the various tribes are led to associate 
with their kind, to dwell among certain objects rather 
than others, and to construct their habitation in a particu- 
lar manner. There seem likewise to be varieties in the 
sense of beauty in the individuals of the same species, by 
which they are directed in the choice of a mate, and in 
the love and care of their offspring. " We see," says 
Mr. Addison, " that every different species of sensible 
creatures has its different notions of beauty, and that each 
of them is most affected with the beauties of its own kind. 
This is nowhere more remarkable than in birds of the 
same shape and proportion, where we often see the mate 
determined in his courtship by the single grain or tincture 
of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the 
color of its own species." 

" Scit thalamo servare fidem, sanctasque veretur 
Connubii leges ; non ilium in pectore candor 
Sollicitat niveus ; neque pravum accendit amorem 
Splendida lanugo, vel honesta in vertice crista ; 
Purpureusve nitorpennarum ; ast agmina late 
Fceminea explorat cautus, maculasque requirit 
Cognatas, paribusque interlita corpora guttis : 
Ni faceret, pictis sylvam circum undique monstris 
Confusam aspiceres vulgo, partusque biformes, 
Et genus ambiguuin, et veneris monumenta nefanda?. 

Hinc merula in nigro se oblectat nigra marito; 
Hinc socium lasciva petit philomela canorum, 
Agnoscitque pares sonitus; hinc noctua tetram 
Canitiem alarum, et glaucos miratur ocellos. 
Nempe sibi semper constat, crescitque quotannis 
Lucida progenies, castos confessa parentes : 
Vere novo exultat, plumasque decora juventus 
Explicat ad solem, patriisque coloribus ardet." 

As far as our determinations of the comparative beauty 



ITS OBJECTS. BEAUTY. 443 

of objects are instinctive, they are no subject of reasoning 
or of criticism ; they are purely the gift of nature, and we 
have no standard by which they may be measured. 

(2.) But there are judgments of beauty that may be 
called rational, being grounded on some agreeable quality 
of the object which is distinctly conceived, and may be 
specified. 

This distinction between a rational judgment of beauty 
and that which is instinctive, may be illustrated by an 
instance. In a heap of pebbles, one that is remark- 
able for brilliancy of color and regularity of figure will be 
picked out of the heap by a child. He perceives a 
beauty in it, puts a value upon it, and is fond of the 
property of it. For this preference no reason can be 
given, but that children are, by their constitution, fond of 
brilliant colors, and of regular figures. Suppose, again, 
that an expert mechanic views a well-constructed machine. 
He sees all its parts to be made of the fittest materials, 
and of the most proper form ; nothing superfluous, nothing 
deficient ; every part adapted to its use, and the whole 
fitted in the most perfect manner to the end for which it 
is intended. He pronounces it to be a beautiful machine. 
He views it with the same agreeable emotion as the child 
viewed the pebble ; but he can give a reason for his judg- 
ment, and point out the particular perfections of the object 
on which it is grounded. 

Although the instinctive and the rational sense of beauty 
may be perfectly distinguished in speculation, yet, in pass- 
ing judgment upon particular objects, they are often so 
mixed and confounded, that it is difficult to assign to each 
its own province. Nay, it may often happen, that a judg- 
ment of the beauty of an object, which was at first merely 
instinctive, shall afterwards become rational, when we 
discover some latent perfection of which that beauty in 
the object is a sign. 

As the sense of beauty may be distinguished into in- 
stinctive and rational ; so, I think, beauty itself may be 
distinguished into original and derived. 

The attributes of body we ascribe to mind, and the 
attributes of mind to material objects. To inanimate 
things we ascribe life, and even intellectual and moral 



444 TASTE. 

qualities. And although the qualities that are thus made 
common belong to one of the subjects in the proper 
sense, and to the other metaphorically, these different 
senses are often so mixed in our imagination, as to pro- 
duce the same sentiment with regard to both. It is there- 
fore natural, and agreeable to the strain of human senti- 
ments and of human language, that in many cases the 
beauty which originally and properly is in the thing signi- 
fied, should be transferred to the sign ; that which is in 
the cause, to the effect ; that which is in the end, to the 
means ; and that which is in the agent, to the instrument. 

If what was just said of the distinction between the 
grandeur which we ascribe to qualities of mind, and that 
which we ascribe to material objects, be well founded, 
this distinction of the beauty of objects will easily be ad- 
mitted as perfectly analogous to it. I shall, therefore, 
only illustrate it by an example. 

There is nothing in the exterior of a man more lovely 
and more attractive than perfect good breeding. But what 
is this good breeding ? It consists of all the external 
signs of due respect to our superiors, condescension to 
our inferiors,- politeness to all with whom we converse or 
have to do, joined in the fair sex with that delicacy of 
outward behaviour which becomes them. And how comes 
it to have such charms in the eyes of all mankind ? For 
this reason only, as I apprehend, that it is a natural sign 
of that temper, and those affections and sentiments with 
regard to others, and with regard to ourselves, which are 
in themselves truly amiable and beautiful. This is the 
original, of which good breeding is the picture ; and it is 
the beauty of the original that is reflected to our sense by 
the picture. The beauty of good breeding, therefore, is 
not originally in the external behaviour in which it con- 
sists, but is derived from the qualities of mind which it 
expresses. And though there may be good breeding 
without the amiable qualities of mind, its beauty is still 
derived from what it naturally expresses. 

Having explained these distinctions of our sense of 
beauty into instinctive and rational, and of beauty itself 
into original and derived, I would now proceed to give a 
general view of those qualities in objects to which we 



ITS OBJECTS. BEAUTY. 445 

may justly and rationally ascribe beauty, whether original 
or derived. 

But here some embarrassment arises from the vague 
meaning of the word beauty, which I had occasion before 
to observe. Sometimes it is extended, so as to include 
every thing that pleases a good taste, and so comprehends 
grandeur and novelty, as well as what in a more restricted 
sense is called beauty. At other times, it is even by good 
writers confined to the objects of sight, when they are 
either seen, or remembered, or imagined. Yet it is ad- 
mitted by all men, that there are beauties in music ; that 
there is beauty as well as sublimity in composition, both 
in verse and in prose ; that there is beauty in characters, 
in affections, and in actions. These are not objects of 
sight ; and a man may be a good judge of beauty of 
various kinds, who has not the faculty of sight. 

To give a determinate meaning to a word so variously 
extended and restricted, I know no better way than what 
is suggested by the common division of the objects of 
taste into novelty, grandeur, and beauty. Novelty, it is- 
plain, is no quality of the new object, but merely a rela- 
tion which it has to the knowledge of the person to whom 
it is new. Therefore, if this general division be just, 
every quality in an object that pleases a good taste must,. 
in one degree or another, have either grandeur or beauty. 
It may still be difficult to fix the precise limit betwixt 
grandeur and beauty ; but they must together comprehend 
every thing fitted by its nature to please a good taste, — 
that is, every real perfection and excellence in the objects 
we contemplate. 

In a poem, in a picture, in a piece of music, 'it is real 
excellence that pleases a good taste. In a person, every 
perfection of the mind, moral or intellectual, and every 
perfection of the body, gives pleasure to the spectator as 
well as to the owner, when there is no envy or malignity 
to destroy that pleasure. It is therefore in the scale of 
perfection and real excellence that we must look for what 
is either grand or beautiful in objects. What is the 
proper object of admiration is grand, and what is the 
proper object of love and esteem is beautiful. 

This, I think, is the only notion of beauty that corre- 
38 



446 TASTE. 

sponds with the division of the ohjects of taste which has 
been generally received by philosophers. And this con- 
nection of beauty with real perfection was a capital doc- 
trine of the Socratic school. It is often ascribed to 
Socrates in the dialogues of Plato and of Xenophon. 

I apprehend, therefore, that it is in the moral and intel- 
lectual perfections of mind, and in its active powers, that 
beauty originally dwells ; and that from this, as the foun- 
tain, all the beauty which we perceive in the visible world 
is derived. 

This, I think, was the opinion of the ancient philoso- 
phers before named ; and it has been adopted by Lord 
Shaftesbury and Dr. Akenside among the moderns. 

" Mind, mind alone! bear witness earth and heaven, 
The living fountains in itself contains 
Of beauteous and sublime. Here hand in hand 
Sit paramount the graces. Here enthroned, 
Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, 
Invites the soul to never-fading joy." 

But neither mind, nor any of its qualities or powers, is an 
immediate object of perception to man. We are, indeed, 
immediately conscious of the operations of our own mind ; 
and every degree of perfection in them gives the purest 
pleasure, with a. proportional degree of self-esteem, so 
flattering to self-love, that the great difficulty is to keep it 
within just bounds, so that we may not think of ourselves 
above what we ought to think. 

Other minds we perceive only through the medium of 
material objects, on which their signatures are impressed. 
It is through this medium that we perceive life, activity, 
wisdom, and every moral and intellectual quality in other 
beings. The signs of those qualities are immediately per- 
ceived by the senses ; by them the qualities themselves 
are reflected to our understanding ; and we are very apt 
to attribute to the sign the beauty or the grandeur which 
is properly and originally in the things signified. 

Thus the beauties of mind, though invisible in them- 
selves, are perceived in the objects of sense, on which 
their image is impressed. 

If we consider, on the other hand, the qualities in sen- 
sible objects to which we ascribe beauty, I apprehend we 



ITS OBJECTS. BEAUTY. 447 

shall find in all of them some relation to mind, and the 
greatest in those that are most beautiful. 

The qualities of inanimate matter, in which we perceive 
beauty, are sound, color, form, and motion ; the first an 
object of hearing, the other three of sight ; which we may- 
consider in order. 

1 . In a single note, sounded by a very fine voice, 
there is a beauty which we do not perceive in the same 
note, sounded by a bad voice, or an imperfect instru- 
ment. I need not attempt to enumerate the perfec- 
tions in a single note which give beauty to it. Some 
of them have names in the science of music, and there 
perhaps are others which have no names. But I think 
it will be allowed, that every quality which gives beauty 
to a single note is a sign of some perfection, either 
in the organ, whether it be the human voice or an instru- 
ment, or in the execution. The beauty of the sound is 
both the sign and the effect of this perfection ; and the 
perfection of the cause is the only reason we can assign 
for the beauty of the effect. 

In a composition of sounds, or a piece of music, the 
beauty is either in the harmony, the melody, or the expres- 
sion. The beauty of expression must be derived, either 
from the beauty of the thing expressed, or from the art 
and skill employed in expressing it properly. 

In harmony, the very names of concord and discord 
are metaphorical, and suppose some analogy between the 
relations of sound, to which they are figuratively applied, 
and the relations of minds and affections which they 
originally and properly signify. As far as I can judge by 
my ear, when two or more persons of a good voice and 
ear converse together in amity and friendship, the tones 
of their different voices are concordant, but become dis- 
cordant when they give vent to angry passions ; so that, 
without hearing what is said, one may know by the tones 
of the different voices whether they quarrel or converse 
amicably. This, indeed, is not so easily perceived in 
those who have been taught, by good breeding, to sup- 
press angry tones of voice, even when they are angry, as 
in the lowest rank, who express their angry passions with- 
out any restraint. 



448 TASTE. 

When discord arises occasionally in conversation, but 
soon terminates in perfect amity, we receive more pleas- 
ure than from perfect unanimity. In like manner, in the 
harmony of music, discordant sounds are occasionally in- 
troduced, but it is always in order to give a relish to the 
most perfect concord that follows. 

Whether these analogies between the harmony of a 
piece of music and harmony in the intercourse of minds 
be merely fanciful, or have any real foundation in fact, I 
submit to those who have a nicer ear, and have applied it 
to observations of this kind. If they have any just foun- 
dation, as they seem to me to have, they serve to account 
for the metaphorical application of the names of concord 
and discord to the relations of sounds ; to account for the 
pleasure we have from harmony in music ; and to show 
that the beauty of harmony is derived from the relation it 
has to agreeable affections of mind. 

With regard to melody, I leave it to the adepts in the 
science of music to determine whether music, composed 
according to the established rules of harmony and melody, 
can be altogether void of expression ; and whether music 
that has no expression can have any beauty. To me it 
seems, that every strain in melody that is agreeable is an 
imitation of the tones of the human voice in the expres- 
sion of some sentiment or passion, or an imitation of some 
other object in nature ; and that music, as well as poetry, 
is an imitative art. 

2. The sense of beauty in the colors and in the mo- 
tions of inanimate objects is, I believe, in some cases, 
instinctive. We see that children and savages are pleas- 
ed with brilliant colors and sprightly motions. In persons 
of an improved and rational taste, there are many sources 
from which colors and motions may derive their beauty. 
They, as well as the forms of objects, admit of regularity 
and variety. The motions produced by machinery indi- 
cate the perfection or imperfection of the mechanism, and 
may be better or worse adapted to their end, and from 
that derive their beauty or deformity. 

The colors of natural objects are commonly signs of 
some good or bad quality in the object ; or they may sug- 
gest to the imagination something agreeable or disagree- 



ITS OBJECTS. 'BEAUTY. 449 

able. A number of clouds of different and ever-changing 
hue, seen on the ground of a serene azure sky at the going 
down of the sun, present to the eye of every man a glo- 
rious spectacle. It is hard to say, whether we should call 
it grand or beautiful. It is both in a high degree. Clouds 
towering above clouds, variously tinged, according as 
they approach nearer to the direct rays of the sun, enlarge 
our conceptions of the regions above us. They give us a 
view of the furniture of those regions, which, in an un- 
clouded air, seem to be a perfect void ; but are now seen 
to contain the stores of wind and rain, bound up for the 
present, but to be poured down upon the earth in due 
season. Even the simple rustic does not look upon this 
beautiful sky merely as a show to please the eye, but as a 
happy omen of fine weather to come. 

3. If we consider, in the last place, the beauty of 
form or figure in inanimate objects, this, according to 
Dr. Hutcheson, results from regularity, mixed with va- 
riety. Here it ought to be observed, that regularity, in 
all cases, expresses design and art : for nothing regular 
was ever the work of chance ; and where regularity is 
joined with variety, it expresses design more strongly. 
Besides, it has been justly observed, that regular figures 
are more easily and more perfectly comprehended by the 
mind than the irregular, of which we can never form an 
adequate conception. 

Although straight lines and plane surfaces have a beauty 
from their regularity, they admit of no variety, and there- 
fore are beauties of the lowest order. Curve lines and 
surfaces admit of infinite variety, joined with every degree 
of regularity ; and therefore, in many cases, excel in 
beauty those that are straight. 

But the beauty arising from regularity and variety must 
always yield to that which arises from the fitness of the 
form for the end intended. In every thing made for an 
end, the form must be adapted to that end ; and every 
thing in the form that suits the end is a beauty ; every 
thing that unfits it for its end is a deformity. The forms 
of a pillar, of a sword, and of a balance, are very differ- 
ent. Each may have great beauty ; but that beauty is 
38* 



450 TASTE. 

derived from the fitness of the form and of the matter for 
the purpose intended. 

The beauties of the vegetable kingdom are far superior 
to those/ of inanimate matter, in any form which human 
art can give it. The beauties of the field, of the forest, 
and of the flower-garden, strike a child long before he can 
reason. He is delighted with what he sees ; but he knows 
not why. This is instinct, but it is not confined to child- 
hood ; it continues through all the stages of life. It leads 
the florist, the botanist, the philosopher, to examine and 
compare the objects which nature, by this powerful in- 
stinct, recommends to his attention. By degrees he 
becomes a critic in beauties of this kind, and can give a 
reason why he prefers one to another. In every species 
he sees the greatest beauty in the plants or flowers that 
are most perfect in their kind, which have neither suffered 
from unkindly soil nor inclement weather; which have 
not been robbed of their nourishment by other plants, nor 
hurt by any accident. When he examines the internal 
structure of those productions of nature, and traces them 
from their embryo state in the seed to their maturity, he 
sees a thousand beautiful contrivances of nature, which 
feast his understanding more than their external form de- 
lighted his eye. 

In the animal kingdom we perceive still greater beau- 
ties than in the vegetable. Here we observe life, and 
sense, and activity, various instincts and affections, and in 
many cases great sagacity. These are attributes of 
mind, and have an original beauty. As we allow to 
brute animals a thinking principle or mind, though far in- 
ferior to that which is in man ; and as, in many of their 
intellectual and active powers, they very much resemble 
the human species, their actions, their motions, and even 
their looks, derive a beauty from the powers of thought 
which they express. There is a wonderful variety in 
their manner of life ; and we find the powers they possess, 
their outward form, and their inward structure, exactly 
adapted to it. In every species, the more perfectly any 
individual is fitted for its end and manner of life, the 
greater is its beauty. 



ITS OBJECTS. BEAUTF. 451 

But of all the objects of sense, the most striking and 
attractive beauty is perceived in the human species, and 
particularly in woman. Milton represents Satan himself, 
in surveying the furniture of this globe, as struck with the 
beauty of the first happy pair. 

" Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, 
Godlike erect! with native honor clad 
In naked majesty, seemed lords of all. 
And worthy seemed, for in their looks divine, 
The image of their glorious Maker, shone 
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure ; 
Severe, but in true filial freedom placed, 
Whence true authority in man ; though both 
Not equal, as their sex not equal, seemed ; 
For contemplation he and valor formed, 
For softness she, and sweet attractive grace." 

In this well-known passage of Milton, we see that this 
great poet derives the beauty of the first pair in paradise 
from those expressions of moral and intellectual qualities 
which appeared in their outward form and demeanour. 

It cannot, indeed, be denied, that the expression of a 
fine countenance may be unnaturally disjoined from the 
amiable qualities which it naturally expresses : but we 
presume the contrary till we have clear evidence ; and 
even then we pay homage to the expression, as we do to 
the throne when it happens to be unworthily filled.* 

* Of later works on the philosophy of taste, the following are among 
the most important : — Kant, Kritik der Urtheilskraft und Beobachtungen 
uher das Gefilhl des Schunen und Erhabenen (translated into French by 
J. Barni, Critique du Jugement, &c); Schleiermacher, Vorlesungeniiber 
die JEsthetik ; Weisse, System der JEsthctik als Wissenschaft von der 
Idee der SchOnheit ; Hegel, Coitrs d'Esthetique analyse et traduit de 
VJlllemand, par M. Benard ; Jouffroy, Cours d,' Esthetique ; Alison's 
Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste; Stewart's Philosophical 
Essays, Part II.; Knight's Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of 
Taste; Schiller's JEsthetic Letters, Essays, &.c, translated by J. Weiss; 
Daniel's Philosophy of the Beautiful, from the French of Cousin. — 
Ed. 



APPENDIX. 



SIR W. HAMILTON'S DOCTRINE OF COMMON SENSE AND 
THEORY OF PERCEPTION. — NATURAL REALISM. — 
PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.* 

Our cognitions, it is evident, are not all at second hand. Conse- 
quents cannot, by an infinite regress, be evolved out of antecedents, 
which are themselves only consequents. Demonstration, if proof be 
possible, behooves to repose at last on propositions, which, carrying 
their own evidence, necessitate their own admission ; and which be- 
ing, as primary, inexplicable, as inexplicable, incomprehensible, must 
consequently manifest themselves less in the character of cognitions 
than of facts, of which consciousness assures us under the simple 
form of feeling or belief. 

Without at present attempting to determine the character, num- 
ber, and relations — waiving, in short, all attempt at an articulate 
analysis and classification — of the primary elements of cognition, as 
carrying us into a discussion beyond our limits, and not of indispen- 
sable importance for the end we have in view ; f it is sufficient to 

* This Appendix consists of selections from the Supplementary Dis- 
sertations to Hamilton's edition of Reid, Notes A,B, and C. They will 
give, it is hoped, a faithful sketch of his doctrine on some of the cardinal 
points in his system ; but justice to the author — one of the most acute 
philosophers of the present age, and one of the most erudite philoso- 
phers of any age — requires that they should be read and studied in 
the connection in which they stand Here, as elsewhere, the references 
of the author to his own Notes are retained, though but a small propor- 
tion, numerically considered, have as yet appeared. — Ed. 

t Such an analysis and classification is, however, in itself certainly 
one of the most interesting and important problems of philosophy ; and 
it is one in which much remains to be accomplished. Principles of cog- 
nition, which now stand as ultimate, may, I think, be reduced to sim- 
pler elements; and some, which are now viewed as direct and posi- 



454 APPENDIX. 

have it conceded, in general, that such elements there are ; and this 
concession of their existence being supposed, I shall proceed to haz- 
ard some observations, principally in regard to their authority as war- 
rants and criteria of truth. Nor can this assumption of the existence 
of some original bases of knowledge in the mind itself be refused by 
any. For even those philosophers who profess to derive all our 
knowledge from experience, and who admit no universal truths of 
intelligence but such as are generalized from individual truths of 
fact, — even these philosophers are forced virtually to acknowledge, 
at the root of the several acts of observation from which their gen- 
eralization starts, some law or principle to which they can appeal as 
guaranteeing the procedure, should the validity of these primordial 
acts themselves be called in question. This acknowledgment is, 
among others, made even by Locke ; and on such fundamental guar- 
antee of induction he even bestows the name of Common Sense. 

Limiting, therefore, our consideration to the question of authority, 
how, it is asked, do these primary propositions, these cognitions 
at first hand, these fundamental facts, feelings, beliefs, certify us of 
their own veracity 1 To this the only possible answer is, that, as 
elements of our mental constitution, as the essential conditions of 
our knowledge, they must by us be accepted as true. To suppose 
their falsehood is to suppose that we are created capable of intelli- 
gence in order to be made the victims of delusion ; that God is a 
deceiver, and the root of our nature a lie. But such a supposition, 
if gratuitous, is manifestly illegitimate. For, on the contrary, the 
data of our original consciousness must, it is evident, in the first in- 
stance, be presumed true. It is only if proved false, that their au- 

tive, may be shown to be merely indirect and negative ; their cogency 
depending, not on the immediate necessity of thinking them, — for if 
carried unconditionally out they are themselves incogitable, — but in 
the impossibility of thinking something to which they are directly op- 
posed, and from which they are the immediate recoils. An exposition 
of the axiom, — that positive thought lies in the limitation or condi- 
tioning of one or other of two opposite extremes, neither of which, as 
unconditioned, can be realized to the mind as possible, and yet of which, 
as contradictories, one or other must, by the fundamental laws of 
thought, be recognized as necessary; — the exposition of this great but 
unenounced axiom would show that some of the most illustrious prin- 
ciples are only its subordinate modifications, as applied to certain prima- 
ry notions, intuitions, data, forms, or categories of intelligence, as Ex- 
istence, Quantity (protensive, Time ; extensive, Space; intensive, De- 
gree), Quality, &c. Such modifications, for example, are the prin- 
ciples of Cause and Effect, Substance and Phenomenon, &c. 

I may here also observe, that, though the primary truths of fact and 
he primary truths of intelligence (the contingent and necessary truths of 
Reid) form two very distinct classes of the original beliefs or intuitions 
of consciousness, there appears no sufficient ground to regard their 
sources as different, and therefore to be distinguished by different 
names. In this I regret that I am unable to agree with Mr. Stewart. 
See his Elements, Vol. II. Chap. I., and his Account of Reid, Sect. II., 
near the end. 



Hamilton's doctrine op common sense. 455 

thority can, in consequence of that proof, be, in the second instance, 
disallowed. 

Speaking-, therefore, generally, to argue from common sense is 
simply to show, that the denial of a given proposition would involve 
the denial of some original datum of consciousness. In this case, as 
every original datum of consciousness is to be presumed true, the 
proposition in question, as dependent on such a principle, must be 
admitted. 

This being understood, the following propositions are either self- 
evident, or admit of easy proof: — 

1. The end of philosophy is truth ; and consciousness is the in- 
strument and criterion of its acquisition. In other words, philosophy 
is the development and application of the constitutive and normal 
truths which consciousness immediately reveals. 

2. Philosophy is thus wholly dependent upon consciousness ; 
the possibility of the former supposing the trustworthiness of the 
latter. 

3. Consciousness is to he presumed trustworthy, until proved men- 
dacious. 

4. The mendacity of consciousness is proved, if its data, immedi- 
ately in themselves, or mediately in their necessary consequences, 
be shown to stand in mutual contradiction. 

5. The immediate or mediate repugnance of any two of its data 
being established, the presumption in favor of the general veracity of 
consciousness is abolished, or rather reversed. For while, on the 
one hand, all that is not contradictory is not therefore true; on the 
other, a positive pi-oof of falsehood, in one instance, establishes a 
presumption of probable falsehood in all ; for the maxim, " Falsus in 
uno,falsus in omnibus,'''' must determine the credibility of conscious- 
ness, as the credibility of every other witness. 

6. No attempt to show that the data of consciousness are (either 
in themselves or in their necessary consequences) mutually contra- 
dictory has yet succeeded ; and the presumption in favor of the 
truth of consciousness and the possibility of philosophy has, there- 
fore, never been redargued. In other words, an original, universal, 
dogmatic subversion of knowledge has hitherto been found impos- 
sible. 

7. No philosopher has ever formally denied the truth or disclaimed 
the authority of consciousness ; but few or none have been content 
implicitly to accept and consistently to follow out its dictates. In- 
stead of humbly resorting to consciousness, to draw from thence his 
doctrines and their proof, each dogmatic speculator looked only into 
consciousness, there to discover his preadopted opinions. In philos- 
ophy, men have abused the code of natural, as, in theology, the code 
of positive, revelation ; and the epigraph of a great Protestant di- 
vine on the book of Scripture is certainly not less applicable to the 
book of consciousness : — 

" Hie liber est in quo quserit sua dogmata quisque ; 
Invenit, et pariter dogmata quisque sua." 

8. The first and most obtrusive consequence of this procedure has 



456 APPENDIX. 

been, the multiplication of philosophical systems in every conceiva- 
ble aberration from the unity of truth. 

9. The second, but less obvious, consequence has been, the virtual 
surrender, by each several system, of the possibility of philosophy 
in general. For, as the possibility of philosophy supposes the abso- 
lute truth of consciousness, every system which proceeded on the 
hypothesis, that even a single debveiance of consciousness is untrue, 
did, however it might eschew the overt declaration, thereby invali- 
date the general credibility of consciousness, and supply to the skep- 
tic the premises he required to subvert philosophy, in so far as that 
system represented it. 

10. And yet, although the past history of philosophy has, in a 
great measure, been only a history of variation and error (variasse er- 
roris est) ; yet, the cause of this variation being known, we obtain a 
valid ground of hope for the destiny of philosophy in future. Be- 
cause, since philosophy has hitherto been inconsistent with itself 
only in being inconsistent with the dictates of our natural beliefs, — 

" For Truth is catholic and Nature one " ; 

it follows, that philosophy has simply to return to natural conscious- 
ness, to return to unity and truth. 

In doing this, we have only to attend to the three following max- 
ims or precautions : — 

1°, That we admit nothing, not either an original datum of con- 
sciousness, or the legitimate consequence of such a datum ; 

2°, That we embrace all the original data of consciousness, and 
all their legitimate consequences ; and, 

3°, That we exhibit each of these in its individual integrity, nei- 
ther distorted nor mutilated, and in its relative place, whether of 
preeminence or subordination. 

Nor can it be contended that consciousness has spoken in so feeble 
or ambiguous a voice, that philosophers have misapprehended or mis- 
understood her enouncements. On the contrary, they have been 
usually agreed about the fact and purport of the deliverance, differ- 
ing only as to the mode in which they might evade or qualify its ac- 
ceptance. 

This I shall illustrate by a memorable example, — by one in ref- 
erence to the very cardinal point of philosophy. In the act of sen- 
sible perception, I am conscious of two things; — of myself as the 
perceiving subject, and of an external reality, in relation with my 
sense, as the object perceived. Of the existence of both these things 
I am convinced ; because I am conscious of knowing each of them, 
not mediately, in something else, as represented, but immediately in 
itself, as existing. Of their mutual independence I am no less con- 
vinced ; because each is apprehended equally, and at once, in the 
same indivisible energy, the one not preceding or determining, the 
other not following or determined ; and because each is apprehended 
out of, and in direct contrast to, the other. 

Such is the fact of perception, as given in consciousness, and as 
it affords to mankind in general the conjunct assurance they possess 



Hamilton's theory of perception. 457 

of their own existence, and of the existence of an external world. 
Nor are the contents of the deliverance, considered as a phenomenon, 
denied by those who still hesitate to admit the truth of its testi- 
mony. 

The contents of the fact of perception, as given in consciousness, 
being thus established, what are the consequences to philosophy, ac- 
cording- as the truth of its testimony (I.) is, or (II.) is not, admitted? 

I. On the former alternative, the veracity of consciousness, in the 
fact of perception, being unconditionally acknowledged, we have es- 
tablished at once, without hypothesis or demonstration, the reality of 
mind and the reality of matter ; while no concession is yielded to 
the skeptic, through which he may subvert philosophy in manifest- 
ing its self-contradiction. The one legitimate doctrine, thus possible, 
may be called Natural Realism or Natural Dualism. 

II. On the latter alternative, five great variations from truth and 
nature may be conceived, — and all of these have actually found 
their advocates, — according as the testimony of consciousness, in 
the fact of perception, (A.) is ivholly, or (B.) is partially , rejected. 

A. If wholly rejected, that is, if nothing but the phenomenal re- 
ality of the fact itself be allowed, the result is Nihilism. This may 
be conceived either as a dogmatical or as a skeptical opinion ; and 
Hume and Fichte have competently shown, that if the truth of con- 
sciousness be not unconditionally recognized, Nihilism is the con- 
clusion in which our speculation, if consistent with itself, must end. 

B. On the other hand, if partially rejected, four schemes emerge, 
according to the way in which the fact is tampered with. 

i. If the veracity of consciousness be allowed to the equipoise of 
the subject and object in the act, but disallowed to the reality of their 
antithesis, the system of Absolute Identity (whereof Pantheism is the 
corollary) arises, which reduces mind and matter to phenomenal mod- 
ifications of the same common substance. 

ii., iii. Again, if the testimony of consciousness be refused to the 
equal originality and reciprocal independence of the subject and 
object in perception, two Unitarian schemes are determined, accord- 
ing as the one or as the other of these correlatives is supposed the 
prior and genetic. Is the object educed from the subject? Idealism; 
is the subject educed from the object? Materialism, is the result. 

iv. Finally, if the testimony of consciousness to our knowledge of 
an external world existing be rejected, with the Idealist, but, with the 
Realist, the existence of that world be affirmed ; we have a scheme 
which, as it by many various hypotheses endeavours, on the one 
hand, not to give up the reality of an unknown material universe, 
and, on the other, to explain the ideal illusion of its cognition, may 
be called the doctrine of Cosmothetic Idealism, Hypothetical Realism, 
or Hypothetical Dualism. This last, though the most vacillating, in- 
consequent, and self-contradictory of all systems, is the one which, 
as less obnoxious in its acknowledged consequences (being a kind of 
compromise between speculation and common sense), has found favor 
with the immense majority of philosophers. 

From the rejection of the fact of consciousness in this example of 
perception, we have thus, in the first place, multiplicity, speculative 
39 



458 APPENDIX. 

variation, error; in the second, systems practically dangerous ; and, 
in the third, the incompetence of an appeal to the common sense of 
mankind by any of these systems against the conclusions of others. 

Now, there are only two of the preceding theories of perception, 
with one or other of which Reid's doctrine can possibly be identified. 
He is a Dualist; — and the only doubt is, whether he be a Natural 
Realist, or a Hypothetical Realist, under the finer form of Egoistical 
Representationism. 

The cause why Reid left the character of his doctrine ambiguous 
on this the very cardinal point of his philosophy, is to be found in the 
following circumstances : — 

1°, That, in general, (although the same may be said of all other 
philosophers,) he never discriminated, either speculatively or histori- 
cally, the three theories of Real Presentationism, of Egoistical, and 
of Non-Egoistical, Representationism. 

2°, That, in particular, he never clearly distinguished the first and 
second of these, as not only different, but contrasted, theories. 

3°, That, while right in regarding philosophers, in general, as 
Cosmothetic Idealists, he erroneously supposed that they were all, 
or nearly all, Non-Egoistical Representationists. And, — 

4°, That he viewed the theory of Non-Egoistical Representationism 
as that form alone of Cosmothetic Idealism which, when carried to its 
legitimate issue, ended in Absolute Idealism ; whereas the other 
form of Cosmothetic Idealism, the theory of Egoistical Representa- 
tionism, whether speculatively or historically considered, is, with at 
least equal rigor, to be developed into the same result. 

Dr. Thomas Brown considers Reid to be, like himself, a Cosmo- . 
thetic Idealist, under the finer form of Egoistical Representationism; 
but without assigning any reason for this belief, except one which, 
as I have elsewhere shown, is altogether nugatory.* For my own 
part, I am decidedly of opinion, that, as the great end, the govern- 
ing principle, of Reid's doctrine was to reconcile philosophy with 
the necessary convictions of mankind, he intended a doctrine of nat- 
ural, consequently a doctrine of presentative, realism ; and that he 
would have at once surrendered, as erroneous, every statement which 
was found at variance with such a doctrine. 

The distinction of immediate and mediate cognition it is of the 
highest importance to establish ; for it is one without which the whole 
philosophy of knowledge must remain involved in ambiguities. 

* Edinburgh Review, Vol. LII. pp. 173-175. In saying, however, 
on that occasion, that Dr. Brown was guilty of " a reversal of the real 
and even unambiguous import" of Reid's doctrine of perception, I feel 
called upon to admit that the latter epithet is too strong; — for, on 
grounds totally different from the untenable one of Brown, I am now 
about to show that Reid's doctrine on this point is doubtful. This ad- 
mission does not, however, imply that Brown is not, from first to last, — 
is not in one and all of his strictures on Reid's doctrine of perception, — 
as there shown, wholly in error. 



Hamilton's presentative knowledge. 459 

What, for example, can be more various, vacillating, and contradic- 
tory, than the employment of the all-important terms object and objec- 
tive, in contrast to subject and subjective, in the writings of Kant 1 — 
though the same is true of those of other recent philosophers. This 
arose from the want of a preliminary determination of the various, 
and even opposite, meanings of which these terms are susceptible, 
— a selection of the one proper meaning, — and a rigorous adher- 
ence to the meaning thus preferred. But, in particular, the doctrine 
of Natural Realism cannot, without this distinction, be adequately 
understood, developed, and discriminated. Reid, accordingly, in 
consequence of the want of it, has not only failed in giving to his 
philosophy its precise and appropriate expression, he has failed even 
in withdrawing it from equivocation and confusion ; — insomuch, 
that it even remains a question, whether his doctrine be one of Nat- 
ural Realism at all. The following is a more articulate development 
of this important distinction than that which I gave some ten years 
ago ; and since, by more than one philosopher, adopted.* 

1. A thing is known immediately or proximately, when we cog- 
nize it in itself; mediately or remotely, when we cognize it in or 
through something numerically different from itself. Immediate cog- 
nition, thus the knowledge of a thing in itself, involves the fact of 
its existence ; mediate cognition, thus the knowledge of a thing in 
or through something not itself, involves only the possibility of its 
existence. 

2. An immediate cognition, inasmuch as the thing known is itself 
presented to observation, may be called a presentative, and inasmuch 
as the thing presented is, as it were, viewed by the mind face to face, 
may be called an intuitive, cognition. — A mediate cognition, inas- 
much as the thing known is held up or mirrored to the mind in a vi- 
carious representation, may be called a representative f cognition. 

3. A thing known is called an object of knowledge. 

4. In a presentative or immediate cognition there is one sole object; 
the thing (immediately) known and the thing existing being one and 
the same. — In a representative or mediate cognition there may be 
discriminated two objects; the thing (immediately) known and the 
thing existing being numerically different. 

5. A thing known in itself is the (sole) presentative or intuitive ob- 
ject of knowledge, or the (sole) object of a presentative or intuitive 
knowledge. — A thing known in and through something else is the 
primary, mediate, remote, real, existent, or represented object of (me- 

* See Edinburgh Review, Vol. LII. p. 166 et seq. ; Cross's Selections 
from the Edinburgh Review, Vol. III. p. 200 etseq. ; Peisse, Fragments 
Philosophiques , p. 75 et seq. 

t The term Representation I employ always strictly, as in contrast to 
Presentation, and, therefore, with exclusive reference to individual ob- 
jects, and not in the vague generality of Rrpresentalio or Vorstellung 
in the Leibnitzian and subsequent philosophies of Germany, where it is 
used for any cognitive act, considered, not in relation to what knows, 
but to what is known; that is, as the genus, including under it Intui- 
tions, Perceptions, Sensations, Conceptions, Notions, Thoughts proper, 
&c, as species. 



460 APPENDIX. 

diate) knowledge, — objectum quod; and a thing through which 
something else is knoivn is the secondary, immediate, proximate, 
ideal* vicarious, or representative object of (mediate) knowledge, — ob- 
jectum. quo, or per quod. The former may likewise be styled objec- 
tum entitativum. 

6. The Ego as the subject of thought and knowledge is now com- 
monly styled by philosophers simply The Subject ; and Subjective is 
a familiar expression for what pertains to the mind or thinking prin- 
ciple. In contrast and correlation to these, the terms Object and Ob- 
jective are, in like manner, now in general use to denote the Non- 
Ego, its affections and properties, — and in general the Really ex- 
istent as opposed to the Ideally known. These expressions, more 
especially Object and Objective, are ambiguous ; for though the 
Non-Ego may be the more frequent and obtrusive object of cogni- 
tion, still a mode of mind constitutes an object of thought and knowl- 
edge, no less than a mode of matter. Without, therefore, disturb- 
ing the preceding nomenclature, which is not only ratified but con- 
venient, I would propose that, when we wish to be precise, or where 
any ambiguity is to be dreaded, we should employ, — on the one 
hand, either the terms subject-object, or subjective object (and this 
we could again distinguish as absolute or as relative) , — on the other, 
either object-object, or objective object. 

7. If the representative object be supposed (according to one the- 
ory) a mode of the conscious mind or self, it may be distinguished 
as Egoistical ; if it be supposed (according to another) something 
numerically different from the conscious mind or self, it may be dis- 
tinguished as Non- Egoistical. The former theory supposes two 
things numerically different; — 1°, the object represented; 2°, the 
representing and cognizant mind : the latter, three; — 1°, the object 
represented ; 2°, the object representing ; 3°, the cognizant mind. 
Compared merely with each other, the former, as simpler, may, by 
contrast to the latter, be considered, but still inaccurately, as an im- 
mediate cognition. The latter of these, as limited in its application 
to certain faculties, and now in fact wholly exploded, maybe thrown 
out of account. 

8. External Perception, or Perception simply, is the faculty pre- 
sentative or intuitive of the phenomena of the Non-Ego or Matter, — 
if there be any intuitive apprehension allowed of the Non-Ego at all. 
Internal Perception or Self- Consciousness is the faculty presentative 
or intuitive of the phenomena of the Ego or Mind. 

9. Imagination or Phantasy, in its most extensive meaning, is the 
faculty representative of the phenomena both of the external and in- 
ternal worlds. 

* I eschew, in general, the employment of the words Idea and Ideal, 
— they are so vague and various in meaning. (See Note G.) But they 
cannot always be avoided, as the conjugates of the indispensable term 
Idealism. Nor is there, as I use them, any danger from their ambigui- 
ty ; for I always manifestly employ them simply for subjective (what is 
in or of the mind), in contrast to objective (what is out of, or external 
to, the mind). 



Hamilton's presentative knowledge. 461 

10. A representation considered as an object is logically, not real- 
ly, different from a representation considered as an act. Here object 
and act are merely the same indivisible mode of mind viewed in two 
different relations. Considered by reference to a (mediate) object 
represented, it is a representative object ; considered by reference to 
the mind representing and contemplating the representation, it is a 
representative act. A representative object, being viewed as posterior 
in the order of nature, but not of time, to the representative act, is 
viewed as a product; and the representative act being viewed as 
prior in the order of nature, though not of time, to the representa- 
tive object, is viewed as a 'producing process. The same may be 
said of Image and Imagination. 

11. A thing to be known in itself must be known as actually ex- 
isting, and it cannot be known as actually existing unless it be 
known as existing in its When and its Where. But the When and 
Where of an object are immediately cognizable by the subject, only 
if the When be now (i.e. at the same moment with the cognitive 
act), and the Where be here (i. e. within the sphere of the cognitive 
faculty) ; therefore a presentative or intuitive knowledge is only com- 
petent of an object present to the mind, both in time and in space. 

12. E converso, — whatever is known, but not as actually existing 
now and here, is known not in itself, as the presentative object of an 
intuitive, but only as the remote object of a representative, cogni- 
tion. 

13. A representative object, considered irrespectively of what it 
represents, and simply as a mode of the conscious subject, is an in- 
tuitive or presentative object. For it is known in itself, as a mental 
mode, actually existing now and here. 

14. Consciousness is a knowledge solely of what is noio and here 
present to the mind. It is therefore only intuitive, and its objects 
exclusively presentative. Again, Consciousness is a knowledge of 
all that is now and here present to the mind : every immediate ob- 
ject of cognition is thus an object of consciousness, and every intui- 
tive cognition itself, simply a special form of consciousness. 

15. Consciousness comprehends every cognitive act ; in other words, 
Avhatever we are not conscious of, that we do not know. But con- 
sciousness is an immediate cognition. Therefore all our mediate 
cognitions are contained in our immediate. 

16. The actual modifications, the present acts and affections, of 
the Ego are objects of immediate cognition, as themselves objects 
of consciousness. (Pr. 14.) The past and possible modifications of 
the Ego are objects of mediate cognition, as represented to conscious- 
ness in a present or actual modification. 

17. The Primary Qualities of matter or body, now and here, that 
is, in proximate relation to our organs, are objects of immediate cogni- 
tion to the Natural Realists ; of mediate, to the Cosmothetic Idealists : 
the former, on the testimony of consciousness, asserting to mind the 
capability of intuitively perceiving what is not, itself; the latter de- 
nying this capability, but asserting to the mind the power of repre- 
senting, and truly representing, what it does not know. To the Ab- 
solute Idealists matter has no existence as an object of cognition, 
either immediate or mediate. 



462 APPENDIX. 

18. The Secondary Qualities of body now and here, as only pres- 
ent affections of the conscious subject, determined by an unknown 
external cause, are, on every theory, now allowed to be objects of 
immediate cognition. (Pr. 16.) 

19. As not now present in time, an immediate knowledge of the 
fast is impossible. The past is only mediately cognizable in and 
through a present modification relative to, and representative of, it, 
as having been. To speak of an immediate knowledge of the past 
involves a contradiction in adjecto. For to know the past immedi- 
ately, it must be known in itself; — and to be known in itself, it 
must be known as now existing. But the past is just a negation of 
the non-existent ; its very notion, therefore, excludes the possibility 
of its being immediately known. — So much for Memory, or Recol- 
lective Imagination. 

20. In like manner, supposing that a knowledge of the future 
were competent, this can only be conceived possible in and through 
a now present representation ; that is, only as a mediate cognition. 
For, as not yet existent, the future cannot be known in itself, or as ac- 
tually existent. As not here present, an immediate knowledge of an 
object distant in space is likewise impossible.* For, as beyond the 
sphere of our organs and faculties, it cannot be known by them in 
itself; it can only, therefore, if known at all, be known through 
something different from itself, that is, mediately, in a reproductive 
or a constructive act of imagination. 

1 21. A possible object — an ens rati 'onis — is a mere fabrication of 
the mind itself; it exists only ideally in and through an act of im- 
agination, and has only a logical existence, apart from that act with 
which it is really identical. (Pr. 10.) It is therefore an intuitive 
object in itself : but in so far as not involving a contradiction, it is 
conceived as prefiguring something which may possibly exist some- 
where and some-when, — this something, too, being constructed out 
of elements which had been previously given in Presentation, — it is 
Representative. See Note C, § 1. 

* On the assertions of Reid, Stewart, &c., that the mind is immedi- 
ately percipient of distant objects, see Note B, § 2, and Note C, § 2. 



THE END. 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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